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<title>Act One by Oh-My-Hokage (Hashidrama), probably-drunk-madara (WriteMessyShit)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26420509">Act One</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hashidrama/pseuds/Oh-My-Hokage'>Oh-My-Hokage (Hashidrama)</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteMessyShit/pseuds/probably-drunk-madara'>probably-drunk-madara (WriteMessyShit)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Drunken Kissing, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Forbidden Romance, Founding of Konoha, Gen, Hand Jobs, M/M, Madara stays AU?, Pining, Tobirama being a homophobe, Uchiha clan being political, potentially canon divergent, well-adjusted Madara Uchiha, where Hashirama is Totally Straight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:33:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26420509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hashidrama/pseuds/Oh-My-Hokage, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteMessyShit/pseuds/probably-drunk-madara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha embark on the strange, difficult, and heartbreaking journey of soulmates.</p><p>A roleplay by @oh-my-hashirama (Hashirama) and @probably-drunk-madara (Madara) on Tumblr. Probably the contents of the Hashirama Chronicles.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Scene 1a: The One Where It's A Shakespearean Play (For Some Reason)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt:</p><p>@oh-my-hashirama, in reference to a picture of a shirtless Madara:<br/>“Why is Madara always naked, like.. Is that some Uchiha thing? I might start a charity for buying Madara shirts.”</p><p>https://oh-my-hashirama.tumblr.com/post/625921593649053696/why-is-madara-always-naked-like-is-that-some</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>A   R E A D I N G   K E Y</b>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p>
  <b> <em>This text tells you the setting…!</em> </b>
</p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>CHARACTER:    (voice tone and action)<br/>
Direct character dialogue.<br/>
        [writer/mun comments]</p><p> </p><p><br/>
Stage direction of CHARACTER.<br/>
Sometimes an omniscient narrator speaks here.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> CHARACTER:<br/>
Internal thoughts / monologue (aka: aside). </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬</em>
</p><p>Prompt:<em><br/>
</em></p><p>
  <em>"Why is Madara always naked, like.. Is that some Uchiha thing? I might start a charity for buying Madara shirts.”<br/>
</em>
</p><p>-- Hashirama Senju, 2020</p><p>
  <em> ▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><hr/><p>
  <b> <em>Somewhere in the afternoon streets of the newly-formed Konoha…</em> </b>
</p>
<hr/><hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Enter a tipsy and horny bisexual disaster (MADARA),<br/>
and a blissfully unaware “heterosexual” (HASHIRAMA)</p><p> </p><p>MADARA:     (points at Hashirama)<br/>
You can buy me a shirt but you can't make me wear it.</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
Then I will buy you a shirt you will love so much you will wear it. Just tell me so I can go win some money for your shirt.</p><p>MADARA:<br/>
Hm. You'll have to convince me to love it, Hashi. I might even root for you to win then.</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
Of course I will win; once I won a cow. And well, you can't just walk around Konoha naked.</p><p>MADARA:<br/>
According to you. I'd like to see you try to stop me.<br/>
        I... a cow. Why do I not know about this? I mean, you were playing to win a cow? A literal cow? That's impressive. Did you eat it?</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
Well, the other guy just had a cow at stake and I won. I left it tied to a tree and I put my Hokage hat on its head. I forgot where I left it in the morning though. I found it at a park, tied to a tree and there were kids feeding it, thinking it was me because of the Hokage hat.</p><p>MADARA:<br/>
Wow, you're ruthless Hashi. Taking a guy's cow. I didn't know you had it in you.<br/>
        Maybe you should take me with you. Win me a shirt. I get to choose who you win it off of, though. Fair?</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
I was drunk, I don't remember it. I thought I could have it as a pet.<br/>
        But I have no money. Can we like... maybe... put you at stake?</p><p>MADARA:<br/>
Oh, I see how it is. I thought you were good at gambling.<br/>
        Well, if you lose me, you can't put a shirt on me. Unless you steal me back.</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
I'm very good but it's very lose-some, get-some. It depends. We will have to run if I lose.</p><p>MADARA:<br/>
Well shit, Hashi. How about we just bet off my clothes? And we can't run! You're the hokage, everyone knows who you are!</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
Bet off your clothes? Risky. What if I lose?</p><p>MADARA:<br/>
Then everyone gets a great view. Just buy me booze and I'll agree.</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
It sounds like something that would traumatize the whole village.<br/>
        [or me]</p><p>MADARA:<br/>
Hey, then the stakes are real high, aren't they? If you're invested in me wearing a shirt, though, you might want to win. Perks, if you win me one, it's still technically your shirt. So, if you want it back at any point… I'll have to return it on the spot.</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
Everyone will see you if I do that, I'm not risking it.</p><p>MADARA:<br/>
Then what are you betting with? Or do you maybe not want to win me a shirt after all?</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
I might knit a nice sweater. I can't do it but I can surely ask some nice old lady to teach me.</p><p>MADARA:     (deadpans, silent)</p><p> </p><p>MADARA is mentally dead inside.</p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA:     (blissfully unaware)<br/>
Or, I can play strip poker and once the other player strips his shirt, you steal it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>MADARA is now visibly sweating.<br/>
HASHIRAMA still has yet to notice.</p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA:<b><br/>
</b>But I can't lose my shirt before him. That would be bad because I'm Hokage and I can't walk around naked. That would be inappropriate.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>MADARA is unsure if he has the ability to be subtle.</p><p> </p><p>MADARA:     (breathing rapidly)<br/>
Hashirama…</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
Madara? Do you need ice cream? You seem like you're hot today.. And no, don't take it as an excuse to take off your shirt please.</p><p>MADARA:<br/>
Yeah.... Sure... You wanna -- share something??</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>MADARA can’t quite manage to look anyone in the eye.<br/>
He is extremely cock-blocked and disoriented.</p><p>HASHIRAMA still has no idea what he’s doing.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<b><br/>
</b>We can have ice-cream. It's in my fridge. But careful, there's some other stuff too. We can have strawberry or anything…</p><p>MADARA:     (muttering, disoriented)<br/>
Yeah! Yeah... Yeah........ Yeah....<br/>
          (exhales, whispers under breath, trailing off)<br/>
... Hashirama, do you know... I'm…</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
You can also take some frozen veggies and put them on your forehead... What are you? Do you think you are sick? Or overworked? You can go to sleep early.</p><p>MADARA:     (stuttering)<br/>
Yeah, yeah that -- that would be great, could you--? do that for me? You want to--? That would be great--</p><p> </p><p>MADARA is losing his touch-starved mind.</p><p> </p><p>Both exit the street, and enter HASHIRAMA's home.<br/>
HASHIRAMA opens the fridge and takes out ice cream and frozen veggies.</p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
You know I don't like it when you don’t wear a shirt because then I have to look at your scars. And it pains me because most of them are from me, and it reminds me of war, and I don't want to think about it.<br/>
        (puts the ice cream on Madara's forehead)<br/>
Do you need to sit? Or you can lie on my table.</p><p>MADARA:<br/>
Yeah, yeah, yeah.. I understand.<br/>
        (involuntarily blushing, murmuring; can't make eye contact)<br/>
Are you free? Right now? To be a pillow?... I think it's a hangover.</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
I'm totally free... Do you think me as a pillow will help with your hangover?<br/>
        (looks visibly confused, but then smiles and takes the sake out of the fridge)<br/>
We can treat your hangover with sake!<br/>
        (returns and sits on the ground)</p><p>MADARA:     (smiling sheepishly)<br/>
Only if you want to be my pillow…</p><p> </p><p>MADARA nervously chuckles.<br/>
He tries to wipe away sweat when HASHIRAMA isn't looking.<br/>
MADARA’s eyes widen at the sake.</p><p> </p><p>MADARA:     (smiling warmly)<br/>
Well, you know me... You're such an enabler. 💕</p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
That's why I sit on the ground... I also should stop drinking when at the office. But I'm not ready to make the decision to stop just yet…<br/>
        I just want you to..<br/>
        (sips from the bottle)<br/>
… get comfortable. Sometimes when I feel sick, other people's presence helps.</p><p>MADARA:<br/>
Yeah, that's fair. Maybe we should both stop.</p><p> </p><p>MADARA lays his head on HASHIRAMA's lap, holding ice cream on his forehead.<br/>
MADARA is watching Hashirama sleepily.</p><p> </p><p>MADARA:<br/>
You know... I like my battle scars. They have a funny way of making me think of you…</p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA starts stroking MADARA’s hair with one hand.<br/>
HASHIRAMA intertwines his other hand with MADARA’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
So you can never forget how much I've hurt you? That's not fair... It's like a leverage against me.</p><p>MADARA:<br/>
I don't think of it that way…<br/>
        (loses eye contact, fingers interlacing with HASHIRAMA's, his gaze soft)<br/>
Hashirama…</p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA releases MADARA’s hand just to grab the sake.<br/>
MADARA looks shocked when HASHIRAMA’s hand pulls away.</p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA:     (sips)<br/>
Madara?<br/>
        (whispers, while stroking MADARA’s hair)<br/>
What is it?</p><p>MADARA:     (watching HASHIRAMA drink, smiling)<br/>
You're hogging the sake.</p><p>HASHIRAMA:     (hands MADARA the bottle)<br/>
Your state makes me nervous, so I'm trying to drink through it…<br/>
        Maybe I could heal the scars, I'm not sure it will work though.</p><p>MADARA:     (playing with bottleneck, only watching Hashirama with a smile)<br/>
You don't need to be nervous. I'm alright. This is pretty normal.<br/>
        You can try healing them if you want, but don't get rid of them completely... They're not bad reminders for me. I need them.</p><p> </p><p>MADARA sits up slightly to sip from the bottle.</p><p> </p><p>MADARA:     (raising the bottle in toast to HASHIRAMA)<br/>
Maybe we stop tomorrow, huh?</p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA smiles at MADARA and takes his hand again.</p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA:<br/>
I just don't like the thought of hurting you. I want you to be alright and happy... I would do and give everything for that.<br/>
        (grins lovingly and takes the bottle)<br/>
Maybe next week…</p><p> </p><p>MADARA sits up further, putting down the ice cream, and faces HASHIRAMA.</p><p> </p><p>MADARA:<br/>
Would you?</p><p> </p><p>MADARA takes the bottle from HASHIRAMA and sets it aside teasingly.<br/>
MADARA laces his fingers with HASHIRAMA's, looking deep into his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>MADARA:<br/>
I think... I know where you could start.</p><p>HASHIRAMA:     (smiling)<br/>
Where? Do you have some big scar I caused?</p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA laughs nervously; he's not sure what MADARA really wants.<br/>
HASHIRAMA tries to look away to calm himself down.</p><p> </p><p>MADARA:<b><br/>
</b>I might…</p><p> </p><p>Focused and slow, MADARA pulls a hand away from HASHIRAMA's.<br/>
MADARA’s fingers firmly but gently turn HASHIRAMA's jaw to look back at MADARA.</p><p> </p><p>MADARA:<br/>
But let me show you what I mean first.</p><p> </p><p>MADARA’s fingers linger, thumb brushing slowly past HASHIRAMA's chin.<br/>
The movement stretches HASHIRAMA’s lip just a little.<br/>
MADARA gazes back up into HASHIRAMA's eyes to gauge his reaction.</p><p>HASHIRAMA feels like he's starting to melt.</p><p> </p><p><em> HASHIRAMA: </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> No, Madara couldn't possibly… </em></p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA:<b><br/>
</b>I…</p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA closes his eyes for a minute and bites his lip to come back to earth.<br/>
He wished for a quick death; he felt like a house of cards.</p><p> </p><p>HASHIRAMA:     (whispering, gently holding MADARA’s hand to stop him)<br/>
I'm probably reading this wrong…</p><p><br/>
<em> HASHIRAMA: </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> Madara couldn't possibly know what he's doing.</em></p><p> </p><p>To Be Continued...</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Scene 1b: The One Where It’s Suddenly Prose (And They're Still Completely Straight, We Promise)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for enduring this abrupt change of formatting.</p><p>We are not sorry.</p><p>(Okay, maybe we're a little sorry. Please enjoy.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ‘Reading this wrong’? </em>
</p><p>The words bounced around in Madara's head, an endless echo against his quick-throbbing heart. His thumb remained on Hashirama's jaw still, as he murmured lowly.</p><p>“Look at me and say that…”</p><p>But Madara wasn’t sure he wanted to wait for that... This felt too right. And so much farther than he ever fathomed it would go…</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama stopped breathing for a few seconds, and felt like he was going to faint from Madara's touches. He wasn't used to this, not from Madara. And the worst part was that he felt guilty for wanting more, for wanting to melt into Madara.</p><p>“What do you want me to say?” His hands were shaking. His whole body was. This was too much even for him. He was used to touching Madara, but never this way. He grabs Madara's hand and brings it closer to his lips, kissing his knuckles gently. “Tell me what you want to hear..”</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara had already melted. Beyond the point of no return. He leaned in, not bothering to move both their hands but an inch out of the way. His lips went where they'd never gone before. Somehow, he had always wanted this, but never let himself fully realize its potential.</p><p>He felt the trembling of Hashirama's body now, up so close. A warm arm wrapped around Hashirama's waist, pulling him even closer. Madara couldn’t help it, not forever. He sucked slightly on Hashirama's top lip, but his mind had started racing again, and he pulled back, his breath ghosting both their faces.</p><p>"I want to hear what <em> you </em> want."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama groaned and bit his lip in an attempt to return to the ground. He wasn't sure whether it was Madara's chakra or their connection which made Hashirama want to soak into him. Hashirama softly brushed Madara's hand with his thumb and kissed him, afraid that it was a dream or that Madara did it by some sweet accident. “Do you have any idea what you're doing with me?” Hashirama breathed out and firmly squeezed Madara's hand. He was longing for Madara, he wanted all of him, but this was too dangerous. Hashirama pulled away for a bit, flushed, looking at Madara, who was too beautiful for his own good. “Madara,” Hashirama moaned his name, trying to get away, although still holding his hand. He couldn't possibly tell him what he wanted. “I want to be... the only thing on your mind…” he whispered carefully. What if Madara was joking?</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara wasn't sure if his face had ever felt this hot before. It was a different kind of warmth, the same that radiated through his whole body, same as the tingles that coursed through his chest. That answer... was everything he wanted to hear. Everything he had <em> ever </em> wanted.</p><p>The heat in his face was overwhelming. He felt as though his breath and lips were on fire. "You already are," he murmured. "All the time, Hashirama..." The weight of his chest overwhelmed him forward again, to steal one more kiss. "All the damn the time."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama was still slightly shaking, looking at Madara. There was something sad about the whole situation. Like something in his head was telling him what he was doing was wrong. And the lingering feeling that he dragged Madara into this mess by being thoughtless. If he was a little calmer, if he wouldn't mindlessly push Madara's boundaries, Madara would be fine.</p><p>"I'm sorry about that.." Hashirama said and kissed Madara again. He didn't feel worthy of that. For him, Madara was a pristine being from heaven. Maybe what Madara felt was nothing but pure lust. He wanted many things. For Madara to be his. To heal all of his scars. To feel his body under himself. Even just once.</p><p>"How do you think of me?"</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara didn't want to complain. No, all he wanted was to kiss and be kissed. To feel and be felt. Gods, to have Hashirama on top of him? That thought made him nearly forget Hashirama had asked him a question. It was all going so fast. He hadn't prepared for any of this. Being tipsy didn't help in all the ways he needed.</p><p>"I..." Where did he begin? He thought of Hashirama fighting him, beating him, picking him up, and tending to all of him: every wound, and every other need, gentle kisses, deep kisses, unresolved tension from the battle... It all felt so silly to say now, even though minutes ago he would have sold his soul to have that happen. If Hashi could just..... Patience, Madara told himself, or he tried, desperately. Slow down. Something still wasn't right. He couldn't rush.</p><p>But how did he even ask for this? Hashirama seemed so unnerved. Did Hashi want this? His question, what was it. How did Madara think of him?</p><p>"Like a friend, but the kind of friend I've always wanted to hold closer than normal friends do. A friend I can touch and kiss." It was gutting. He wanted so badly to hear Hashi just say he loved him. "And love." Wow, he just let that slip out. Right on out. Way to be patient, Madara.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>For Hashirama, kissing Madara felt natural. It was the closest he has ever been to him, and it was the closeness Hashirama welcomed the most. It made him more high than the sake. The kisses he used to receive from girls in the clan during the war could not compare. This was like coming home after being away for years. It was familiar yet new. Maybe it was from all the times he imagined kissing him.</p><p>"And normal friends don't do that?" Hashirama asked half jokingly, half… Half of him wasn't so sure. He was always touching Madara and he didn't consider it inappropriate.</p><p>And then the thoughts came creeping in. What if Tobirama saw them? What if he could feel their chakra? What if the whole of Konoha would know? They would think Madara had cast some curse on him, a genjutsu, to make Hashirama act so irresponsibly.</p><p>With the word ‘love’, Hashirama clenched his teeth. Madara couldn't possibly.. No, it was probably just Madara feeling alone, yearning for connection and some gentle words. And Hashirama wanted to fulfill his wishes. To make him feel less alone and more accepted because it probably wasn't something Madara had in Konoha. No, it was impossible for Madara to love him, someone who was the brother of Izuna's killer, someone who practically stole his position as Hokage, someone who was as stupid, and someone who was so worn down. There was just not a chance. But he could enjoy the moment for what it was.</p><p>"Let me look at the scars," Hashirama said and deliberately touched Madara's stomach, acting like nothing happened. He wanted to cry, although he wasn't sure if from happiness, grief, or from longing that was so inappropriate. Somewhere deep down, he knew that this could ruin them both.</p><p>"We are friends, of course we love each other," escaped Hashirama's mouth. He wanted to kiss him again, but at the same time, push him away and run for the hills that were behind the village.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>The hand on his stomach did it in a whole different kind of way. 'Of course we love each other': that was it. Hashirama loved him too. Of course he did. Why did Madara hesitate then? The feeling on his stomach, the look in Hashirama's eyes, it all propelled him forward, and yet, Madara always got caught on the words. No, he didn't want to force it. He wasn't going to do that. All this energy out of seemingly nowhere... What on earth was it?</p><p>He had to slow down. He was way too excited.</p><p>His hand met Hashirama's on his stomach. "Alright," he said finally to the scar issue. If Hashirama wanted to do it, Madara would let him. It was only that... one thing that kept biting him. He didn't want to say it. It felt so ridiculous. So silly. Hardly becoming of him. But if Hashirama successfully healed everything, Madara would never get the chance to ask again.</p><p>"But," he started. Immediately he regretted starting. Why? It was so stupid. He slouched in frustration. Hashirama's hand was still in his. "Why is it so hard to ask for this?" Madara muttered, almost smiling at the ridiculousness. "Hashirama..." Was he this bold? Or this stupid? Was he going to force it out, just like every other thing today? How much would this change everything? How much would this ruin? Hashirama loved him, didn't he?</p><p>"Kiss all my scars," he murmured. "Before you get rid of them." Why was he letting Hashirama take them all away? Why, when Madara couldn't think of another reason that Hashirama would touch him so willingly, so lovingly? It was the only thing he had.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama was always careful with his words. He usually made them so ambiguous that they could be interpreted many different ways. Friends. He needed to make sure that he could always take his words back, especially when so much was at stake. Hashirama felt overwhelmed by his feeling, by the tingle on the tips of his finger, by the daze in front of his eyes. He never had problems with controlling himself, but the physical sensations in his body made him dizzy, like he caught a fever.</p><p>"I want to kiss them away everytime I see them, Madara..." Hashirama breathed out. It was hard for him to keep attention, but somehow Madara did that for him. There was something that kept Hashirama on his toes, that made Hashirama feel safe and that made his eyes stay on Madara. And his hands, his hands...</p><p>Hashirama slowly took Madara's top off, like he was taking care of someone delicate. Madara's torso wasn't as flawless as marble and there were many scars; like on the body of every shinobi (but his own).</p><p>"Did I cause all of them?" Hashirama asked and caressed Madara's cross-shaped scar. "Does it hurt?" Hashirama asked with a bated breath. He felt a strong desire to take care of him; Hashirama bended his head to Madara's stomach to look as closely as possible, his fingertips still on the scar. And wasn't this what friends did? Helping each other? Hashirama wondered and slowly breathed the air out of his lungs with lips close to Madara's stomach.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>The tickle of Hashirama's breath made Madara shiver. Involuntarily, he felt the urge to lean backward, back flat against the floor. His nerves vanished, or most of them did. Seeing Hashirama like this: it felt right. Better.</p><p>"That one you did, or don't you remember?" Maybe Madara didn't like thinking about how he got the scars. Sometimes he did. He only really liked that they reminded him of Hashirama. But right now, he didn't want to talk about old battles. Those were all in the past. Things were different now. "The diagonal was your first strike after we split as children." He almost chuckled at the image of a young Hashirama, despite all the pain that rushed back in. He tried to block it out, to preserve what was left of the high feeling he had now. "Your katana was bigger than you were back then."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama smiled with a trace of guilt. He didn't remember every blow, mostly because all of his wounds disappeared. But seeing the scar, it was like his name was written on Madara, like his mark lingered on his body. And some grasping part of him didn't want to destroy such a testament of Madara belonging to him, but Hashirama would never say it out loud. It was just a secret he could keep for himself. "I don't remember... I was probably just irresponsible brat," he breathed out as his palm ran over the scar.</p><p>"Does it hurt?" Hashirama asked and pressed his lips on the scar. He wanted to repair what he had done. He kissed Madara's stomach again. It felt so normal, having Madara so close. Then he caressed the side of Madara's abdomen. Hashirama only knew that he wanted to feel closer to Madara, mentally and physically also. "You're my best friend, you know?"</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama's falling hair brushed over Madara's stomach. It should have tickled, and it did, but accompanied by the touch of Hashi's hand, the feel of his lips... It did other things. Images came to mind, ones that Madara, with sobriety now catching up to him, shoved away. The effect of those thoughts, he feared though, would soon appear whether he liked it or not. Now was the worst time to get a boner. All he had to do was keep Hashirama's attention. Just do that, and it would be fine.</p><p>No, it wouldn't be fine. Yes, it would. The heat was rushing over his body again, as if he were still tipsy. His heart throbbed so hard in his chest, he wondered if Hashirama would notice. Maybe that would draw him away from everything else.</p><p>"You're my best friend," he murmured, all too huskily. He hated worrying about what others thought of him. Especially when it conflicted with what he wanted. And right now, all he wanted, all he could ever want, was Hashirama to just get on top of him, to do things to him, to whisper and moan, and chuckle, just as they always would, only now, with a deeper understanding, with a deeper love, with greater affection. Somehow, Madara felt moisture forming in the corners of his eyes. God damn it. It wasn't enough for anyone else to notice, thankfully. But just how ruled by this was he? How wrecked was he really? How desperate was this desire clawing in his stomach? It was too much to handle. On its own, his hand gripped Hashirama's wrist, maybe way too tightly. He watched it anyway. His heart was beating too quickly.</p><p>"I love you." Terror tensed his throat. "Like a friend in the battlefield, and like a friend who tends to wounds. Like a friend who kisses his friends; liberally, Hashirama." God, why were the tears coming back? He felt like a helpless child. He didn't want to feel that way. "You're like a friend who has to know he's more than just that. Please tell me you know that."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama focused on the taste of Madara's skin... No, it wasn't taste, it was just like chakra radiated through Madara's skin, like he was electric. Hashirama could feel tingling on his tongue. Or was it just his imagination because he was shaking from holding back? He gave Madara his full attention. He felt Madara squeeze his wrist, but he was so far gone that it was like Madara was talking to him from afar. Then he moved his head up, to kiss his chest, which he did for a hot second. He looked so out of breath when he raised his head to look at Madara.</p><p>For a second, he froze and he felt like the lightning went over him -- but Madara somehow danced around the topic and Hashirama could pretend that it was just normal, just for a few more moments. Because Hashirama felt comfortable in the normalcy, in the relationship he didn't have to address. He didn't have to address it for himself. They were both safe this way, protected from the whispers around the village that would eventually turn into yelling. He wanted all of it, but he felt like he wasn't strong enough to claim Madara as his, to withstand the pressure, to be able to tell himself honestly what he felt. No one could ever know.</p><p>"Are you crying?" Hashirama asked quietly with understanding. He lifted his hand to Madara's cheek and touched it gently. "I will not let you feel alone, do you understand? If you're sad, I can help you.." he said courteously.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara's throat felt hoarse now. Hashirama's hand on his cheek, the stupid tears that rolled down his face. Why was this so difficult? Hashi wouldn't let him feel alone. That was good enough.</p><p>Madara just had to get over the fear of initiating. Too much he had mulled waiting for Hashirama to do something. Madara either needed to ask directly or do it himself. Neither felt natural at all. He wanted Hashirama to see him, to see those needs already. Maybe crying wasn't quite a pitfall. But Madara felt exhausted.</p><p>"I need you."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama wanted to kiss every inch of Madara's body, from the inside out. He wanted to know how it tasted, how would Madara sound, how would his breath be affected, how would Madara's body bend and sway... So he kissed his chest deliberately again to quiet his thoughts, his thoughts he considered nasty, disgusting and cheeky.</p><p>Did they kiss or did Hashirama just dream it? He knew the taste of Madara's lips now, but was it real? Was it as real as the punches they gave each other during war? Was he going crazy?</p><p>He wanted to ask Madara a hideous, foul question. But was it fair to want something like this from him? Would he have the audacity to ask Madara to keep quiet? He wanted to make sure Madara would keep it a secret, but then he could think that Hashirama was ashamed of this and he.. He was. And he hated himself for being a coward. "Madara, my dear, can we keep this between us?" he asked carefully. He was afraid that Madara would storm out of the room. That he will get angry for Hashirama being so ashamed. Such a request could easily offend Madara.</p><p>Hashirama was a little slow when it came to these things. He lived in denial and most of the time, he liked it. "What do you need me for?" Hashirama whispered. "If you're hurting, just tell me what you need..."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"It's always been between us. It's always been ours, no one else's. No one will know us like we do, Hashirama." Love soared from Madara's lips. God, he was hard. All the warmth in his body, it spread and tingled with every kiss Hashirama left. Madara was melting. He ached and throbbed, but in the best of ways.</p><p>"Hashi, I need you to kiss me and don't stop. Don't let me stop you. Keep me here beneath you like it's what I need. You're always so sure about my wounds, so sure about my needing to rest, so adamant... So, be adamant that I stay here and be kissed by you, because it's what I need. Give it to me like you've prescribed it yourself. Make me take it."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama looked into Madara's eyes, completely forgetting that he wanted to heal his scars in the first place. But maybe there were scars that were much deeper, maybe they were mental and that was why Madara was crying and Hashirama could heal them differently. He wanted to hold Madara so long that he would stop crying. Supporting himself with his elbows, he pressed his lips against Madara's, his hair falling down.</p><p>Hashirama couldn't believe that he managed to seduce Madara to kiss him, because kissing Madara was like tasting water in a desert, and Hashirama was dehydrated. He wanted to pour himself into Madara, to stay this way forever. He didn't plan to go any further, but the more he felt Madara's hot body on his, the more he started to toy with the idea of... helping Madara any way possible. Most likely, Madara just wanted physical attention and Hashirama just happened to be around and be the only person Madara trusted. It was just normal that Madara would want his best friend to do it for him. To help him get rid of the tension, the longing, the hardness.. No, it just happened that Hashirama was around. Not because Madara would actually choose him.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Feeling Hashirama finally hover over him like this... Madara forgot where he was. The only thing in the world was Hashirama, his lips, his love...</p><p>Madara couldn't help it. His arms ran up Hashirama's, to his biceps, clinging to his shirt, nearly begging him closer. Madara opened his mouth to the kiss hungrily, letting his tongue graze briefly across Hashirama's lip, just for a moment. He was too afraid to do more, out of concern for Hashirama's reaction, despite the fact the man was on top of him now. But so desperately did he want more that his body nearly shook in anticipation of Hashirama's reply.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama trembled a little when Madara touched his arm. He didn't like to lose control, not when he was only... trying to help Madara. That's what he was telling himself. He wanted more, he wanted so much more, but he couldn't even admit it to himself, because that would make him a bad person in his mind. He wouldn't just use Madara. But he was more than willing telling himself that he will let Madara use him -- somehow. Still, he didn't want to let Madara lead the situation. And not let things go too far. Madara was probably just sick with illness, had no idea what he was doing, and acted just according to his instincts that Hashirama somehow brought up.</p><p>Hashirama couldn't believe what he had gotten himself into. He inserted his palm into Madara's hair and started to play, then pulling with a force not too gentle but not too hard. He couldn't get enough of him, and didn't even realize that he himself was moaning.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>There was no outside world anymore. Hashirama's moans vibrated on Madara's lips, and Madara could only echo him, letting his tongue take another brief graze across Hashirama's lip, and then another, and another. His hands snaked around Hashirama's core and dug into his shoulder blades, as if Madara's body, on its own accord, was pulling itself even closer to the man. An aching want nestled itself deep in Madara's abdomen. He wrestled with it, always in other ways. He answered its call in ways he wasn't sure he would ever tell anyone. And yet, despite that fear, he wanted Hashirama to do that for him now. His knee bent and brushed the inside of Hashirama's leg. It already felt electric. Paired with Hashi's pulls against his scalp, he was helplessly melting into the floor, or perhaps into his friend. The tears came back again, in full force now. When he broke for air, all he could do was moan.</p><p>"Hashirama..."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama wasn't going to let go. He enjoyed the feeling of being so close to Madara. He wanted more, but he didn't need more. This was just a physical proof of their bond, just a completion of something that was already there.</p><p>Hashirama cried out with Madara's touch on his leg. He felt vibrations go right from his leg through his abdomen, stomach, and to his chest where it stung. Hashirama's body tried to fight it. It was like Madara's touches were hurting him. He firmly pushed Madara's leg down. He didn't want to let Madara have control. He started to think about how to pacify him. Would that be fine to use mokuton or would it be rude? But Hashirama wasn't ready to let Madara do whatever.</p><p>"Yes, my dear?" Hashirama asked, pressing his body on Madara to hold him down.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara shivered as his body pressed harder to the floor. A different kind of moan escaped his lips, more involuntary than before. He couldn't even reply. A loose smile cracked on his lips, overwhelmed by the sudden bliss coursing through his veins. The urge to writhe came over him, not because he wanted to escape, but because he wanted to be halted yet again, forced down even harder, punished.</p><p>His eyes trailed up Hashirama's body, his breathing hot and heavy, ready for this kind of fight now. Hashirama was a worthy opponent; his perception was correct. All those times he ever imagined Hashirama like this were coming to fruition. For a while, Madara wasn't sure if this was possible for his friend, if Hashirama's dominance style in battle would translate into... this. It almost seemed unlikely with how long it took both of them to finally kiss. But this was already better than the version Madara's mind had created in those prior moments of needy weakness.</p><p>His naked chest billowed as he breathed, rapidly now, probably giving away his next move, but he didn't care. Hashirama being able to see Madara's every move before he made it -- that was just where Madara wanted to be. Once more, eyes locked mischievously on his lover, he pressed up against the force holding him down, waiting anxiously for what he prayed would follow.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>It wasn't Hashirama's sheer dominance that made him act like this. It was his fear of being so vulnerable. As a child, he wasn't allowed to cry. The vulnerability and rushed decision could cost you a life on the battlefield. Losing control left people dead. He just couldn't relax. He wanted to give Madara what he needed, at least part of that, but on Hashirama's terms.</p><p>He found crying Madara gorgeous, but there was something tragic about that kind of beauty. Madara was slowly ruining him. And to fight it, Hashirama pressed against Madara's naked body harder. He grabbed his wrists and pushed them gently, but firmly, to the ground. He wasn't going to let Madara ruin him, or ruin everything. Yet he did. He looked into Madara's eyes apologetically because he couldn't let him touch his body or take off just one piece of his clothing. He felt the warmth of Madara's body as he, himself, was turning red. Then he pressed his lips on Madara's neck, with his smell all over him.</p><p>After a few seconds, Hashirama let go of his dear friend's hand and he put his on Madara's hip to push it down, to the floor, so Madara wouldn't move willingly against his body.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>The fight between their muscles burned. As Hashirama pressed him into the floor once more, Madara had to release tension and breathe. And just then, the neck kisses began.</p><p>The scent of Hashirama's hair filled his nose. The feeling of his lips on that tender, ticklish spot under his jaw—Madara arched toward him, or tried, blocked by Hashirama yet again. The tension came back, the tingling of his neck, the flutters in his chest; he couldn't take it. He let out a long, whining moan, like that of a child begging (he thought in hindsight). All he could lift was his chest, and not enough. Indignant, he breathed his love's name again. "Hashirama..." The pulsing, needy feeling in his groin sent shivers through his body. He could already imagine it releasing in his lovers hands, no in his mou—gods...</p><p>"Hashi..." he choked out, blinded again by the fiery thought. When he wanted something, his impatience overwhelmed him too fast. A moan whirred in his throat, moisture wicking the corners of his eyes, almost like sweat. His legs trembled with tension. Would Hashirama hear him? "Hashirama...hah.."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama could feel Madara's tension. And his own too, but he.. wasn't ready to come to terms with that fact yet. Madara tasted of pleasant saltiness and smelled like rain in summer. It was the cruelty of the world at its peak, to long for his friend, for his brother in arms, for his soulmate. For a person that wasn't supposed to be his.</p><p>Madara's desperate moans made Hashirama want to do more to him. To score him. He stopped for a while and looked at Madara mysteriously. He didn't want Madara to intervene. So he joined his palms together and the ground trembled (or was it his guts?). From beneath Madara's feet and wrists grew branches that intertwined with his hands and legs. It wasn't something Hashirama wanted, but needed, so he wouldn't have to be careful. Then he kissed Madara quickly on the mouth so he would forgive him for such a rude use of his jutsu. But he would stop if Madara wanted.</p><p>Hashirama then lowered his head and bit his lip. Then he touched the upper seam of Madara's pants. He looked into Madara's eyes once again to make sure he wasn't doing anything wrong. He could feel sweat coming down from his forehead.</p><p>"Madara..." He moaned. He felt tension himself, but he didn't want to do anything about it. He just wanted to test Madara's limits.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Every time. Every time Madara thought the sensation couldn't be topped, Hashirama swooped in and surprised him. Never was Madara more happy to be proven wrong.</p><p>He chuckled weakly as the wood curled around his limbs, gentle yet firm. Just like Hashirama. "You would," he teased weakly after the kiss, wishing he could spurn Hashirama back for just one more.</p><p>But at the feel of Hashirama by the crotch of his pants, Madara's breath hitched. His eyelids drooped as he relaxed against the wood. This man... He really was going to after all. Madara closed his eyes in ecstasy at the thought, waiting for it to taste its reality. He trembled every time he came to and that hand, Hashi's hand, was truly there. This wasn't a dream at all, or if it was, Madara never wanted to wake from it.</p><p>"You're too good to me," he murmured, the breath almost painful to push out. He felt his brows knit in pleasure as he leaned his head back slowly, ready to take it. "Hashirama..."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama's head felt like he was in a haze. He would say it was the alcohol, but deep down he knew it wasn't. It was just the patience he was forcing on himself, the cruel feelings he felt from being so close to someone. Hashirama stroked Madara's abdomen with his hand, just to make Madara sure that everything was fine.</p><p>He was enjoying himself, teasing Madara's body, whose shape he was just getting to know.</p><p>Hashirama pulled Madara's pants and underwear down. He was trying to relax, yet he couldn't. He got Madara where he wanted to have him all this time, so he couldn't just let himself go. He stroked the inner part of Madara's thighs with the back of his hand while looking at Madara's groin lovingly. Then, he took Madara’s tip in his mouth, while keeping his eyes fixed on him. Hashirama felt hot in his clothes, but he wasn't planning on taking them off... now or ever. He put his hand on Madara's hips, enjoying the feeling of having Madara so close and in such a desperate state. There was something bad about it, yet loving.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>As his clothes peeled off, the cold air rushed across his skin, but that wasn't why Madara shivered. Hashirama's warm hands pressing into his flesh, into his naked inner thigh: this was... This wasn't real. It had to be a dream. Madara's eyes were squeezed shut in anticipation, head reeling. He tried to slow his breathing, but every time he managed, a new sensation sent him over the edge again. This time, it was the wet warmth around his tip. Oh, gods.</p><p>He knew what was happening. He knew it in his brain. He could see it in his mind. But he almost couldn't look. The embarrassment he already felt, being so exposed like this. Being treated like this by anyone else's hand, Madara wouldn't have it. He was grateful it was Hashirama. Slowly, his vulnerable fears eased a little, he opened his eyes—no, he dared to open them—and looked down at the man, at exactly who was doing this, truly. It was no dream. Hashirama's lips were around him, his eyes fixed on Madara's face. Of course Hashirama was waiting to see Madara's expression. Warmth flowed down Madara's body in tingling waves. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the man, no matter how much he wanted to hide his burning face. No, he wanted this. He wanted it too badly. His face contorted against his will at the stimulation. God, Hashirama knew exactly what he was doing. Madara couldn't control his face anymore. It almost made him laugh, or maybe he was still nervous about showing this side of himself, the unhinged, vulnerable side. He tried to flash a smile down at Hashi (his lover, oh, his lover). His lips trembled as he blinked under the sensation. He would not last long like this. And yet, he wanted it to go on endlessly, torturously, forever in those brown eyes that watched him, controlled him.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>It was just the beginning of realization on Hashirama's part how much he wanted this. How he longed for this. How hard he was trying to fight it. His fingertips ran over Madara's chest. He liked to watch Madara's changing expression according to his change of pace. The feeling and the sight was almost divine. He liked how delicate and sensitive Madara was to his moves. Hashirama moaned. He was losing control. The vibrations were coming down from his shoulders to his groin, to his toes.</p><p>And Madara... He was the only person Hashirama wanted to make cum, the only person Hashirama wanted to make happy. He was glad his mouth was full, otherwise he would probably whisper silly things about love that he felt towards the other man. He didn't want anything else than to watch Madara squirm and struggle, trying desperately to fight the release only to lose in the end.</p><p>He wasn't even sure if he was good at this, but he moved according to Madara's breath. He had nothing but the lips and tongue to show Madara what he had always meant to him and it felt as good on his lips as saying 'I love you'. There was no other way for Hashirama to show affection. Words weren't enough, money was too meaningless, and palaces were too small. And he was willingly giving what he had to Madara, who was still tied down by the branches.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara's moans were desperate now. His jaw clenched with the rest of his body, along with his throat, under the feeling of the Senju swallowing him. Hashirama's hands grazed across his skin, slick with Madara's sweat. His hair stuck to the back of his neck. He could feel his own sweat pooling under his back, rolling down his thighs. He didn't have time to imagine it, not anything. The rush was coming, out of nowhere, throttling down his stomach. He didn't even have time to warn Hashirama. Too fast.</p><p>The throbbing erupted to a peak on his tip, still warm and surrounded. Every pulse sent shockwaves through him, choked gasping moans rising from his throat. His eyes pleadingly searched for Hashirama, through the waves of the orgasm, but he couldn't even lift his head. He could still feel those lips teasing him, sensitive and tender as he was now, and he couldn't writhe away. He wasn't sure if he wanted to, being beneath such a beautiful power that destroyed him so, beneath Hashirama's jutsu, the leaves on the branches shaking with Madara's every struggle. He felt so alive, so loved, so safe here. Still, his voice rose in desperation for a face, tears starting to blur his vision.</p><p>"Hashirama..." It barely came out audibly, more like a croak. His throat was clogged with tension and weakness. The orgasmic waves started to subside, leaving him no strength at all. A whisper was all he could manage. "Hashi..." He tried again. "Hashi..." It wasn't enough. He pleaded for his lover, desperate through the fog. "Please..."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>He carefully watched Madara's face and his body as he finished. The red on his cheeks, the waves of his torso, it was everything Hashirama ever wanted to give to Madara. Watching him like this was almost heavenly, just like everything about Madara was. And watching him like this, dependent on the touch of his own lips, made Hashirama even more tense. His head was spinning, it was like being in a different reality. With his only one under himself.</p><p>Hashirama swallowed everything because he wanted to accept everything Madara had. Madara's pleas were complimenting him, yet he wasn't able to do it. His heart was melting while Madara begged, while his friend begged. He was only a friend, caught in a moment, in a rush, in a fever of drunkness. Hashirama made him feel less alone and that was it. There couldn't possibly be another way around it.</p><p>Now it was almost his turn to cry. He didn't have the heart to tell Madara no, his body was telling him to take care of it, yet something in his mind kept him in a cage. He wasn't strong enough. The tears filled his eyes, so he turned his head to the other side. He wanted to give Madara more, give himself something, but there would be consequences he wasn't ready for. He breathed in deeply and clenched his fists. Then he smiled at Madara apologetically and released the hold of his mokuton. He stood up and went back to his table. He wanted to cry because he just ruined their friendship, ruined Madara and possibly even himself.</p><p>"I should go to a meeting," he whispered softly, waiting for his voice to break.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara was still breathless, released, naked upon the floor, shivering. The tears in his eyes suddenly felt cold, as a terror ripped through his chest. He could see Hashirama sideways, but not his face. The loneliness seeped in, the fear of abandonment, that hatred of loss. No, not again. Not again.</p><p>"Hashi." It came out more forcefully than Madara intended, having spent so long being unable to speak clearly at all. Of course Hashirama hadn't heard him. Madara couldn't even get his words to come out any louder in his ecstasy. Still, the pang of fear inside his chest tightened him, and he curled up weakly, ready to hide. "Hashirama, don't leave me."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama wanted to go to Madara. To stroke his cheek, to kiss him on the head, to make love to him. To tell him that he will never leave his side, to ask him to be his, to marry him even. But the silence in his head was too loud. He was too scared. So he just looked at the papers, so he wouldn't have to see Madara and how innocent he looked.</p><p> </p><p>"Madara, it's just a meeting, I'm not leaving you. I'm always with you in my mind and we will see each other later," Hashirama answered with a pretend smile. He looked at Madara again, which made him tense. He was too beautiful, lying on the ground, right after orgasm, still red and flushed. No, Hashirama couldn't act on these feelings. Madara was just a friend and he had to bury all the other thoughts to the graveyard of his inappropriate thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara quivered at the calmness in Hashirama's voice. "You left too fast..." he whispered. He felt like a child. Tears poured from his eyes uncontrollably. What was he doing? Why was he reduced to this state? Why couldn't he just pull it together? It was no big deal. Why did he have to be so sensitive?</p><p>Awkwardly, cold and numb still, he pushed himself off the ground, shaking. He had to pull himself together. The pain in his chest, he had to ignore it. It was nothing. All of this was nothing. It was just--</p><p>He made the mistake of looking at Hashirama. Not even his face. At his feet, his pant-legs. It all felt so cold, so sick. He couldn't shake the trembling. He felt ill.</p><p>"Why are you doing this?" His eyes lifted to the man's face. "Why are you over there? Why couldn't you just say that here? I need you." The words tumbled out of him, just the same as those stupid tears. His chest was filled with a horrible amount of emotion. He just wanted Hashirama to hold him. That was it.</p><p>Slowly, his eyes trailed to his discarded clothes. The urge to hide himself returned, even stronger in the silence. It all just made it impossible to pull himself together. A sob came out of him suddenly, horrifying him. What had he become now? Nothing more than a helpless babe? A weak little emotion-driven drunk with no filter, no ability to slow down, no ability to stop? Surely he was none of that to Hashirama, or was he? Had he missed something? Had he done something wrong here? Was this his fault? His mind wouldn't slow. His heart was beating too fast. He couldn't breathe. The ill feeling returned. His eyes darted up to Hashirama, pleading, begging for the end of it. It felt like the world was ending.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama didn't want to see Madara cry. He noticed and gave Madara a sad look. This was all because of him, because he just couldn't keep his hands for himself, because he just couldn't leave Madara alone. He hated himself for not running to Madara. But he knew what one touch could cause, just like before. One touch between them was like touching a house of cards.</p><p>"I had to go to grab my papers for the meeting," Hashirama lied. He had to get away. Take a cold shower and think about the bad things he was doing and thinking. But Madara wasn't ok. He couldn't leave him now. It was like a stone landed on his chest. He could feel Madara's pain even though they weren't standing next to each other.</p><p>"I won't go if you need me," Hashirama finally softened. He couldn't just leave his best friend in this state. But he still wasn't going to come near the other man, that was it. He wanted to hold him. But he couldn't, so hurting Madara was the second option. He looked at Madara who looked like a mess. The worst part was that Hashirama was a much bigger mess. Hashirama wanted to cry for what he got themselves into. He wanted to kiss all Madara's fears away, yet he couldn't.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Madara, I can't continue...." He whispered. He felt guilty and disgusting. He wanted to cry too, he wanted to cry for Konoha that wouldn't let them have it. For not being able to turn off his thoughts. For not being able to give Madara what he wanted. To be vulnerable wasn't on the table.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara breathed through the words. Somehow, it was comforting, and yet, his chest burned. Hashirama stood there, still so far away. Madara's mind, it jumped too quickly. All the way to the worst. All the way to the ending world. It wasn't true. Hashirama wasn't gone, he was right there. Madara's stomach ached.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he muttered. He wiped off his face forcefully, as if to close off his tear ducts from betraying him anymore. "I don't know what happened there." His chest hurt even more after that. Just push on. "I got too overwhelmed. I let go." His eyes stung yet again, but he rubbed away his tears again, lowering his head away from Hashirama to clothe himself. He had to stop this. Stop this ache, in any way possible. Slowly, it was decreasing. And once he had his pants on again, despite his wobbly legs and sore stomach from the clenching, he stood straight, messily clothed, feeling a wreck with dried tears on his face, feeling absolutely disgusting.</p><p>He almost couldn't look at Hashirama for a moment, but then, the natural urge to do so came over him. He was so used to that making him happy, he realized. He stared at his lover now, composed somewhat. The throb in his heart was painful. His eyes dragged across the man's lips, the man who looked honestly frozen. Why, after all that, did he pull away? After doing nothing for so long, suddenly Hashirama went so far as to... make him cum with his mouth. That was so far for a man to go, for a man who only thought they were friends.</p><p>Madara's head throbbed. The high was wearing off, and now, the headache he hadn't planned on was returning. He lowered his gaze, his brow starting to tense against the ache.</p><p>"Alright. I guess I'll see you later then." God, it felt like there was a frog in his throat. He felt sick still. Every passing minute he felt worse. Why?</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama sat behind the table. He looked at Madara, at the shape of body he was getting used to. He couldn't help but to look at him lovingly, like he was the only thing that mattered, the only thing he knew.</p><p>"Madara, listen," Hashirama said with a serious look. "I'm not.. I'm not good at this. I need you to give me time, I need you to understand me. I'm Hokage, we both gave everything, our blood, our tears, our sweat, our brothers to this village... And this, we, our union, could destroy it. Feudal lord could cut our money. Our people would hate me. If they get even an idea of this, we're risking everything we have, even our relationship, because if this was to ruin Konoha, we would start to resent our relationship. We're risking every single person that lives here," Hashirama whispered and bended his head. "Hyuugas can see through the walls. Our sensors could possibly know.. We're not safe, our chakra is too grand to hide it," Hashirama said looking into Madara's eyes. They were so full of life, so full of love. The way Madara looked at him made him shiver and it made him blush, so he hated it. Madara held too much power over him. Hashirama's stomach turned. He was fated to be alone because no one else besides this Uchiha was for him in this world. And because the truth was that Madara was the only one who could even think about taking Hashirama's clothes off. But Hashirama wasn't ready. Konoha was at stake, and Hashirama took time. He waited so long until flowers and weeds started to grow beneath his feet.</p><p>When he looked at Madara, the feeling of pride came over him. It was him who made him cum, who made him shiver, who made him move under his touches, who swallowed... all of it. The images came back to his mind, the feeling of Madara's taste on his lips, the sound of Madara's moaning.. It was all coming back. And Hashirama knew that he needed to get away, to get some release.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara's gaze burned. His whole body filled with a kind of fire that he didn't quite know, at least not for Hashirama. Not since the war anyway. Not since they were children. Not since this whole mess began. It was at the crux of their bond, the fact that they were who they were, and that was all they could ever be. And yet, hearing Hashirama of all people say it aloud like this, even though Madara knew it, and maybe even feared Hashirama would say it, it still felt like a betrayal. Like a burning, sickening lie.</p><p>"Hyuuga aren't the only ones with eyes, you know," he growled, his gaze lowering to Hashirama's groin. No, he was being too harsh. It didn't matter if Hashirama was lying. It didn't matter that Madara knew he was. Madara was too tired for this. He unclenched his brow, rubbing out the tension in his forehead. "If you're going to your meeting, then go." He sounded too harsh again. But now, he didn't care. He was too hurt. He needed to lash out. "You know where to find me." He glanced at Hashirama to catch his eye, and then down at the man's crotch again, which showed all too clear signs of throbbing neglect. "If you even need me for that."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama didn't even look at Madara, not even one blank stare. He needed to get away. Get some fresh air, maybe a drink or two. He was leaving his own apartment to leave Madara like he was, hoping that once he came back, Madara would be long gone and that all lingering feelings he had would expire.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>After some time alone, so long that he couldn’t remember, Madara left the house. He went to a bar across town with every plan to drown himself. Maybe if he drank enough, he wouldn’t wake up for a whole week. And maybe then, everything would be gone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> To Be Continued... </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Scene 2a: The One Where They Meet Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Hashirama was trying hard to stay away from Madara as much as possible. He didn't know how to face him after what had happened. He couldn't eat because the guilt and fear both filled his stomach and there was no space left for food. On his mind was Madara, only Madara.</p><p>When the Uchiha clan approached him with a strange request, Hashirama almost threw up. He couldn't stand the way they were talking of his lover, like he was a pathetic bug and they were going to exterminate him. Hashirama felt a strong desire to defend him. He couldn't accept the request, but the clan was pushing him to do so.</p><p>There was a big spring celebration in the streets of Konoha. People were drinking and eating out, dancing on tables. At least something warmed Hashirama's heart that became a cold, barren desert in a night.</p><p>He imagined what it would be like to be there with Madara. Not to meet him there, but to actually go with him, as a pair, as lovers, hand in hand. But it would make the Uchiha clan, Tobirama and probably the rest of the village combust. It just wasn't meant to be.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara... had to be at this party. That day had ended even worse than he could have expected. Just when things were markedly at rock bottom, his clansmen came in with shovels to dig the hole deeper. Madara was unstable? Madara had problems? Madara was making the clan look bad? Tough shit. What were they going to do? Vote him out?</p><p>Truthfully, that only made him feel worse. He always liked to pretend nothing mattered when it did. And the only thing that helped at all was a drink. They called him an alcoholic. Madara didn't see how he was any different than any of them right now, watching them dance and shout at tables. If anything, he was the civil one right now. He wasn't obnoxious about his drinking. They were just hypocritical fuckwads.</p><p>He didn't like coming to events either. If that whole confrontation hadn't happened, he wouldn't have come, save for a maybe an hour before going home. He wasn't a party animal. He didn't like being around so many people, having everyone looking at him, expecting something more out of him. He wasn't like Hashirama. He wasn't the life of the party. He didn't want to be like Hashirama anyway. Madara was only a clan leader. He couldn't begin to imagine why Hashirama allowed everyone to ask so much of him. Madara was beginning to feel glad he never got the role of hokage.</p><p>But hokage or not, alcohol was still... sickening. Maybe he was overdoing it a little. He could dial it back. The whole week had filled him with stress. His body was finally telling him enough was enough. He didn't remember a sober moment after his talk with Hashirama. He didn't want to think about that talk.</p><p>Unthinking, he downed another cup. Maybe it was just for good measure. He could block out the thoughts. He was <em> not </em> going to think about this. Not tonight. But as he put the cup down, his sake bottle freshly empty, he looked up and across the way, and beneath the red string lanterns, he saw the very man he didn't want to think about. Beautiful as ever, glowing even, smiling at someone like always.</p><p>Madara audibly groaned, but his eyes were already locked on. His stomach did a sickening flip. He gripped the table a little. Just how badly was he setting himself up right now? He blinked away the nausea, or he tried. Water? Water was a good place to start.</p><p>He looked back at Hashirama in the crowd. Why here? And why now?</p><p>══════════════</p><p>The thing was that Hashirama's problems, stress and fears never showed on his face. He could stop eating for a whole week and no one could tell. He could drink so much that his body was filled with bruises. And no one knew. He could smile, light up the room, although Madara was still on his mind. The problems, at times. And his body, at times. It was like Hashirama's whole being now circled around Madara. He couldn't get the moans out of his head. Madara was his favorite sorrow and the source of happiness.</p><p>When Hashirama noticed Madara, his whole body tensed. This was the man he imagined the whole week, the man he dreaded and feared. Was Hashirama a fool for not running to him? For not begging for forgiveness, for not kissing him, for not asking him to be his?</p><p>Hashirama couldn't act like he didn't see him because their eyes met, he would always meet those eyes.</p><p>He made his way through the crowd. Madara didn't look good. The good thing was that Hashirama noticed even little changes about his friend. No wonder they both struggled the past week.</p><p>"Madara!" Hashirama smiled like nothing happened once he came close enough and waved, acting like the fleeting, intense moment between them never was. Could he just..swipe it away? He felt tingling in his chest and in the tips of his fingers. He noticed Madara's cup. "Are you drinking?" He asked. Not to be rude, but because he wanted another drink also.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>And now Hashirama was coming over. Madara's night just got better and better.</p><p>Was he drinking. Psh.</p><p>"I'm out." His throat still burned from the last one, or maybe it was the reflux. Madara didn't feel good at all. And all he could really do was scowl. Despite wanting everything to be near Hashirama, he still harbored anger that wouldn't leave that easily. And Hashirama, classic Hashirama, just pretended nothing had happened, that everything was okay, same as on the day of. It felt like a jab in the stomach. Madara's tense brow wouldn't go away. He was feeling sicker by the minute.</p><p>"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to appear normal. Maybe if he willed himself not to be sick, it wouldn't happen. If he just ignored it and calmed down, he'd be okay. He felt so sweaty. A hot flash, and a cold spell hit him at once. He was so glad he was sitting. He wasn't sure if he'd walk in a straight line at this point. But how could he calm down in the presence of Hashirama Senju?</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"Celebrating? I'm Hokage so I need to show up for a bit," Hashirama smiled. It was killing him not to adress what happened. He couldn't possibly tell Madara that he enjoyed it. No, it was hard to tell it even to himself. And saying that loud would be a death sentence.</p><p>"I had so much work past week!" Hashirama laughed and grabbed a bottle of sake on a table and he drank from it. The problem was that once he was so close to Madara, the hot flashes returned. The same intense feelings he had when he was lying on top of him. Madara's back arching back. His fast breath and the taste of his lips, of his torso and..Oh god. Hashirama was going back to that state when in a crowd. So he looked at some random girl and waved at her with a radiant smile. He sat down so his legs wouldn't be shaking.</p><p>"You look sick," Hashirama said. He wanted to take Madara home and make him take a bath, let him rest while being close. He needed to talk to him about his clan issues.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>This was excruciating.</p><p>Madara closed his eyes. The feeling wouldn't go away. Why not? Why did it have to be now? He really was a mess. A horrible disgusting mess. His clan was right. He was such an idiot. He didn't know what else to do. Sake always solved his problems before, and now, it did nothing but worsen them. Why now? Why, why, why...</p><p>He felt the awful taste in his throat, the burn. He couldn't even answer. He glanced over at the patch of grass and shrubs nearby. Close enough. It was all he had. He really couldn't walk. Standing was too shaky. He felt dizzy. Sinking down into his seat, his stomach lurched. Under the table then.</p><p>And there went everything. His dignity. His foothold. His being right, his clan being wrong, everyone else being wrong. All of it was gone as he lost the past few hours of stomach contents under a goddamn table, in public. God, he felt miserable. He couldn't even push himself off the bench. He didn't even want to look at Hashirama's face. He didn't want to see the concern. Everything felt so empty and inauthentic. All he could do was pant and shiver. He wanted to lay down. He wanted to lay down on Hashirama's lap again. Only this time he was really sick. He wasn't faking it for attention.</p><p>He whimpered at the pain in his gut. Lifting his legs onto the bench hurt too badly. Now he was just laying halfway on a picnic bench in public over his stupid retch. And why in god's name was he thinking about drinking sake?! He really was doomed.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama chuckled friendly. This happened a lot to him, especially when he was younger and didn't know how much he could drink.</p><p>"I think it was enough sake for you today," Hashirama smiled, stood up and went to Madara, ignoring disgusted looks around. He wasn't sure if it was because it was Madara or because he was throwing up. Probably both. He landed on a place next to him. He found it funny, almost child-like. He stroked Madara's back.</p><p>"Are you ok my dear? Do you want me to take you home?" He wasn't judging him. Who was he to judge someone throwing up all his insides after too much alcohol? There was something honest about throwing up, something that made Hashirama not take the life so seriously.</p><p>"It's ok, you're going to be fine," Hashirama voiced and drank from a bottle.</p><p>The electricity went through him when he realized how hopeless he was. Because he found Madara, almost on the ground, beautiful and cute. There was no saving him. He wanted Madara to feel better. He could only guess why Madara was in this state.. and it was his own fault. He wanted to beg for forgiveness, but he wanted to keep his composure. He couldn't tell him he didn't stop thinking about him.</p><p>“There is nothing like puking with somebody to make you into old friends.”</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Did he want to go home? Absolutely. He had wanted to go home since he got here. Maybe it wasn't so bad he got sick after all. Now he had an excuse to leave. It didn't make him look great, but at this point, Madara was tired of caring.</p><p>Weakly, he reached over his shoulder to find Hashirama's hand. He didn't even mind anymore, or not as much. It made him dizzy, the brush of Hashirama's fingers on his back. Dizzy in both a good way and a bad way. He laughed weakly at Hashirama's joke.</p><p>"You're always too kind to me." Part of it was true. Madara didn't feel that worthy of kindness, despite wanting it, begging for it. He felt like he had to pull it all out of Hashirama, despite the fact that the man gave it to him so freely, even now, more than the rest of the world would ever offer him. And yet, Madara still itched for more. He wanted everything Hashirama had. And for the first time, that made him feel alien.</p><p>"I don't know..." He lost his train of thought. The bench was almost comfortable. His eyelids drooped, but he forced himself awake. "I—... Walking is... hard for me right now." God, he just wanted to be cradled. Hugged. Loved. His drunk, conscious dreams filled his head with sweet images. He came to again, face plastered against the wooden bench, drooling a bit. God, did he fall asleep again? He wiped his mouth clumsily. He could still feel Hashirama rubbing his back. All the embarrassment rolled back in.</p><p>"Why do you love me?" he mumbled.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama always tried to be kind, but there were times he was ruthless. He had to be. Otherwise people would destroy him completely.</p><p>"I can support you.. or I can carry you if you want," Hashirama laughed. Holding Madara.. as a bag of potatoes was fine with him as his friend wasn't too heavy. He continued stroking Madara's back although he promised himself he would not do it anymore because it was harder to control himself then.</p><p>With Madara's question, Hashirama froze. This was nothing Hashirama admitted to himself. Did Madara read his thoughts? Or did Hashirama say it when kissing Madara the last time? Did he do something that made Madara feel this way? Hashirama wanted to bury himself with shame, hoping no one heard Madara's brave words. Hashirama turned pale. He was petrified, wanting to crawl under the table and stay there forever. He wasn't going to let Madara tell him how he felt.</p><p>"Because you're my brother," Hashirama said, trying to save face. The truth was that he had no idea why. He just adored Madara since childhood, kissing the holy ground he was walking on. There was no explanation. He just longed to have him close.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"I feel like everybody just.. hates me." Madara could barely keep his eyes open. Talking with them closed was far easier, somehow. His brows knitted. "My family hates me so much. They think I'm an idiot, Hashi. They don't want me."</p><p>Slowly, like a toddler probably, Madara pushed off the bench and steadied himself. These lights were too bright. He squinted, trying again to blindly reach for Hashirama. Bringing his legs shakily to the other side of the bench, he slouched in exhaustion. He had no intention of even trying to walk, of even attempting to endure that embarrassment. He couldn't even see straight; just turning his head resulted in a fantastic blur. He really was that hammered.</p><p>"You think I'd look like an idiot if I rode on your back?" he snorted, his eyes finally adjusting to the light. Hashirama was so beautiful. Madara couldn't tear his gaze away. He was so pretty, it was criminal. Gentle heat rose to his cheeks, and he grinned flirtatiously. "Wow, Hashi-kun. How many girls do you pick up a day, looking like that?"</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama gazed at Madara. He still couldn't believe how it was possible that they didn't just adore Madara like he did. How could they not love him?</p><p>"I don't hate you, I could never hate you. Even if you broke me, even if you killed me.. I would always want you, you're my family, Madara.." Hashirama smiled and caressed Madara's back again. He wanted to curse the Uchiha clan for making Madara feel this way.</p><p>"Well we look like goddamn fools already," Hashirama laughed. Everyone knew they were tragic. The thing was that everyone found it charming when it was Hashirama who was drinking or puking or doing stupid stuff. But once Madara did the same thing, he was cursed and frowned upon like a rotten apple. It was so unfair Hashirama wanted to scream and shout their ugly, ugly mouths.</p><p>He couldn't help but smile when he realized the way Madara was looking at him. It was wrong to take it as a compliment. Hashirama's cheeks turned red. He drank from the bottle again like he was trying to come back to earth.</p><p>"What kind of girl would want me? I would be useless as a husband," Hashirama said, lying. He probably could get a nice girl. They were bringing him free food they cooked, yet Hashirama didn't take any of them.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama's words were so warm. Madara couldn't be mad anymore. He saw in the Ssnju's eyes the same look as on that fateful day. The same love. So it was real after all. Not just a dream, not just a nightmare. It was a real thing, a happy thing. Madara wanted everything to kiss him.</p><p>"If I was a girl," he started, and his chest filled with the same heat as his face. The butterflies. "I'd be all over you."</p><p>The Senju's hand on his back spurned him. Madara ran a hand up Hashirama's arm, somehow with the mind enough to stop at the forearm. Maybe, just maybe, this time, Madara would get it right with him.</p><p>"Would you take me home, friend? Love of my life?" It was too easy to tease Hashirama, too hard not to. Madara loved the color of Hashirama's blush, his nervous tick of drinking, the way he spoke so lovingly, how he sang Madara's name. "You might have to carry me after all. I really, really overdid it." He snorted again in a giggle. Only a few minutes ago, he remembered feeling all kinds of wretched. And now a glowing beacon of love stood before him. Hashirama never left at all. Madara felt like swooning.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama smiled. There were crowds of people, lifeless people with vacant stares and empty words. Black and white, loveless bodies. He thought, for a second, that they could never know love if they didn't know Madara like he did. Nothing was as sensual or colorful. And only him and Madara existed in the mass of people.</p><p>If Madara was.. He let himself have another sip of sake. Everytime he got nervous, he drank. If Madara was a girl, things would be easy, less cruel, less tragic. But maybe it was why the situation was so enchanting, because Madara was a man, out of reach, like the stars. Maybe Hashirama liked how complicated the thing was.</p><p>"We would have ten kids if you were," Hashirama laughed. Kids. He wanted them so bad. It almost made him sob. Eventually he would have to find a wife to have them. It wasn't possible if he wanted to continue having Madara.</p><p>Hashirama looked at Madara. Was he trying to rile him up? Where were the boundaries between friends and love? Madara was constantly pushing Hashirama to the wall. He looked around, hoping no one heard Madara's irresponsible words. "Someone will hear you, don't joke like that," Hashirama said. "I will take you to my apartment, is that ok?" He asked, hoping no one will notice. He didn't want to leave Madara by himself. He looked like he could hurt himself.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"No one's listening, Hashi," Madara snickered. "Nobody gave a shit since I was kind enough to vacate my guts." His laugh slowly faded. Inside, his chest felt empty. "Hashirama..." The apartment sounded nice. Just the two of them. All at once, Madara wanted to cry. He'd been doing that too much lately. He wasn't sure where it all came from, but it started when they had sex.</p><p>God. Even thinking that phrase gave him chills. It was unreal. They had sex. They really did. They had sex like a man and wife, except ... not. They were different than that, while still in a similar vein. But it was even more unusual with all these people. These awful, horrible, no good people. Madara only cared about Hashirama. And he prayed Hashirama only cared about him.</p><p>"The apartment is fine," he mumbled, holding out his arms nearly like a tiny child waiting to be lifted. His chest throbbed with emotion. He wanted to bury his face in Hashirama's shoulder, in his hair, all over again. He wanted to smell Hashirama's scent, cling to him as before, not naked, just vulnerable. It was everything he had ever needed, feeling Hashirama react to him like that, so gentle and loving. Madara quivered with exhaustion. All he wanted was to be held. That was all he could think of, staring into Hashirama's chest. His mind begged for it, yearned for it. Just the smallest touch from him was all Madara needed.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama smiled and stole a grilled meat stick from the neighbouring table and started to eat it. Then he sipped from the bottle once more. He didn't want to be terrified by people watching. He always had a bad feeling that they were looking at them. It made him afraid, more afraid than Madara could imagine. Sometimes he felt like Madara didn't notice his fears at all, that he ignored them and just went after what he wanted without second guessings.</p><p>His head was spinning. Although he wasn't drinking enough, he didn't eat or sleep for so long and no one had an idea. So the alcohol made its way to his veins easier.</p><p>Hashirama looked at Madara and kissed him on a cheek, then on his forehead, while embracing his arms around Madara's shoulders like no one was around. But they were, evil eyes and evil tongues always lured around them. "It's going to be fine, don't worry," he said. He could feel the way he loved Madara in the night air. Under the streetlight. He was once again breaking his own promises but it was so hard with Madara around.</p><p>"Ok so I will hold you... And we will get to my house.." Hashirama said carefully.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>This night, Madara hoped he would remember it. Through the daze, past the blur of this warm sake in his blood. He hoped he would remember all of it, even though he could barely remember what happened fifteen minutes ago. If he remembered anything, he wanted to remember that Hashirama kissed him in public. If he got nothing else, if he could feel nothing more ever again, he wanted to remember this.</p><p>Slowly, Madara buried his face in Hashirama's shoulder. Arms wrapped around the man, he thought tightly, but his drunk mind kept loosening the grip somehow. He clutched Hashi's yukata. His clothes smelled like flowers. How did Hashirama do that?</p><p>"You smell so nice," he mumbled into Hashirama's shoulder. His eyes had closed again in the sleepiness. But his mind wasn't so at ease for that. As soon as their chests touched, Madara felt all the guilt creep back in, all the feelings he didn't want to feel. He remembered Hashirama walking out. He remembered letting him, making him. God, he really was an awful leader. He was genuinely in over his head now. He sniffled, awkwardly, hugging Hashirama so tightly he was sure the Senju would tell him to back off, but he just couldn't.</p><p>"I'm sorry I'm such a jerk," he whispered. "I'm such an idiot, Hashi. Why do you put up with everything I do? All the shit I say? Why do you keep coming back?"</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"Thank you," Hashirama smiled. Madara enjoying his smell was blissful almost as much as the clear summer night. He looked up, it was like all the stars screamed Madara's name. Or was it just his head? Hashirama caressed Madara's hair and smiled.</p><p>"You're my only one. We share a special bond that no one else has. We grew up in similar circumstances and our wounds are the same. We were both pulled apart but it seems like we can be put together again if we are together," Hashirama whispered. "Since the first time I saw you, I knew that we are special, different. And something pulled me to you, like we used to be one," Hashirama whispered into Madara's ear. His hair was on his face, but he didn't mind. "And thanks to you, I have never felt alone... I will always come for you, come back, run after you because nothing else makes me so content."</p><p>Then Hashirama stood up and lifted Madara up, into his arms, like he was a child. Hashirama laughed because he found the situation funny. He didn't even realize what he had done. "Take the bottle, Madara!" Hashirama asked and moved Madara closer to the table so Madara would take care of the sake Hashirama stole. Then he started to walk through crowds, through kids with lampions, through people of Konoha who were at least as drunk as Madara was.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Holding Hashirama's sake, or what was left of his from before, Madara somehow found it easy not to drink. The lights blurred around him enough as it was. He was already on a high.</p><p>People's faces passed, unrecognizable. Madara nuzzled in closer to Hashirama's neck, clinging to his clothes, clinging to the feeling. Tears were already rolling down his cheeks, and he hid his face in Hashirama's shoulder. Like a shy child. What was this feeling? It was like being reborn as nothing but a toddler, an infant, being carried through an unbelievably wild world, foreign and impossible to understand. Madara clung to the only thing he knew, the only pillar left for him in this awful place filled with burning red lights and smells and voices, and it was all Hashirama.</p><p>The Senju's arms held him easily, like Madara truly was a newborn babe. He felt so lost in tears that wouldn't stop, and now, he wasn't sure if he ever wanted them to. For the first time in his life, perhaps it felt good to cry. </p><p>Madara didn't have anything thoughtful to say. He couldn't put any words together beyond a sacred few. Hashirama was so fluent and talkative when he was drinking. Madara was nothing but a mess, a heap of garbage that caught on fire, and the flames grew higher the more alcohol he added. But with his head tucked into Hashirama's neck, fresh tears staining his cheeks, Madara closed his eyes and whispered below the whir of the world, only to Hashirama alone, the way the man wanted it.</p><p>"I'm so intoxicated. I know how this sounds. It sounds stupid. You say it so much better, and you don't even say it." He was starting to blubber again, his tears coming out, blurring his vision even more. He closed his eyes against the world and leaned into Hashirama's neck even further. "But I love you. I know I'm just drunk, I know it's what all drunks say. You don't have to believe me. But I love you." It was all he could say. "I love you Hashirama. And I know somewhere in this heart, this beautiful body, this friend of mine, you love me. Or I hope you do." He already said this. Before, it wasn't enough. Or maybe it was. Hashirama was so tender now. But Madara felt too poetic now. Surely he sounded like an oaf. "I love you like a friend, but also like a man loves his wife." He scrunched his nose. "Though I'd rather be the alluring, romantic wife." This was getting off topic. Hashirama would think it was a joke. "But I love you. Just like that. You're my whole world Hashi. Everything I am is all you. I can't exist without you." How long had he gone on? Had Hashirama even heard him above the noise of the party? Madara clung to his friend weakly, the tears of worry filling his eyes again, pouring out in a tiny sob. He just wanted this to last forever.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama still laughed while walking with Madara. His apartment was small, maybe too small for two people, but he hoped that Madara would just fall asleep and they would not do strange things like dancing in the kitchen or fighting in the living room. Hashirama noticed that Madara was crying like a baby. Hashirama's thoughts immediately went to the Uchiha clan. It must have been the reason Madara was so delicate. Pricks. Dogs. How could they hurt Madara like this? They must have known how down he was after losing Izuna. And they still kicked him when he was on the ground, at his worst. </p><p>Hashirama felt a strong urge to get Madara out of there. He didn't want him to be at such an unfriendly place. "Shh... It's going to be alright, we will get you out of here," Hashirama whispered. Having Madara so close brought the memories of the night they shared. Hashirama clenched his teeth; this wasn't the right time to think about it. Madara was too vulnerable. </p><p>Madara's words made him feel uneasy. The deeper Madara was getting, the sicker Hashirama felt. He felt so weak that for a moment, he thought that he would drop Madara, but he didn't. His legs almost failed him also. It was everything Hashirama ever wanted to hear and everything he dreaded to hear. One part of him wanted to take Madara home and never kick him out. He suddenly realized that he was smiling. Why was he so happy about it? Did it feed his ego? Or was this just because Madara, the living part of heaven, wanted him only? Hashirama looked at the bottle. He was talkative, but he didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he felt and what he should do. He had everything he ever wanted in his arms, quite literally, yet he felt like a hunted animal. </p><p>"I'm so sorry, Madara, that you feel this way," Hashirama said. He didn't think that he deserved to be loved by Madara. It was always off the table. But Madara didn't care about things other people did, he saw him for who he was. Hashirama went up the stairs to his apartment, quietly. He finally got Madara away from the crowds, from the loud noises and annoying lights.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>
  <b> <em>To Be Continued…</em> </b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Scene 2b: The One Where They Fall Back Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry it's so long.</p><p>They had a lot to say.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Madara groaned softly, mumbling into Hashirama's collar. "I don't want you to be sorry." All that anger was bubbling up again. Maybe it was his nerves. No, he couldn't lash out again. Madara was so immature. God it made him want to cry. Why was he like this? Why did he have to bring out his claws when anyone rejected him? He didn't like that feeling. He already felt so alone as it was.</p><p>The silence of the house felt much better, and yet, somehow worse. This was the same place they'd... done everything. Madara clung to Hashirama. He didn't want to be put down, not unless Hashirama was coming with him. God, how old was he? Was he a toddler? Did he have no object permanence? Being drunk really blurred that line. Why did he have to blubber like a baby?</p><p>"Don't leave me again." The fear lodged in his throat. He remembered too much about what happened last time. He didn't want it to happen again. He didn't know what he had to do to get Hashirama to stay, but whatever it was, Madara would do it. "Please stay with me. I want you here."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama didn't reject Madara. He couldn't reject him, how could he reject someone he needed as a water and air? He wished Madara had just more patience, he wished Madara would listen. Hashirama needed help, yet he was afraid to ask for it. </p><p>He opened the door with his elbow and kicked it, so he wouldn't have to put Madara down. Then he looked at Madara and smiled. The apartment had only one room and it was a mess. Hashirama's armor was on a table, used probably as a plate. </p><p>"I am sorry because you deserve better," Hashirama said in the end and swallowed air. He wanted Madara to have someone who wouldn't leave. Who wouldn't be so full of fears. Who wouldn't care how he was perceived. Hashirama hated himself. Tobirama would kill him if he knew that he actually kissed Madara.. He wouldn't even need to know details of where, he would just stab him for doing it. Madara deserved better than this. Hashirama put Madara down on his bed that faced the kitchen. </p><p>"Do you want something to eat?" Hashirama asked softly. Then he looked at the bonsai that was on his bed, right next to Madara. He grabbed it and put it on the window. "She can't sleep in bed during the night... She would be spoiled. So I need to put her on the window when I sleep," he said and smiled. Madara lying on his bed was always too emotional for him. </p><p>"I will not leave you, Madara," Hashirama said. If Madara wanted him here... he would stay awake the whole night, not sleeping, just to watch over him carefully.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"How could I deserve better? I don't have anyone else but you." Madara's own moaning was starting to give him a headache. He was thankful for the quiet of Hashirama's home, the calm smell, even if it reminded him of bad feelings.</p><p>Hashirama's bed was so soft. It smelled like him. Madara curled up in it, burying his face halfway into the pillow. As Hashirama flitted about, Madara barely heard the words, but still heard that beautiful voice. Hearing him in the background, it was like a dream come true. Hashirama, always around, always near, closer than ever before. Madara wanted to believe in this.</p><p>The question of food made him hesitate. Lazily, he opened one eye to Hashirama. "Do you think I should? I don't know..." After everything that had happened earlier... that thought made him feel queasy. But Hashirama was so much better at these things than Madara. The Uchiha felt like a slave to his own body, especially now. He wanted nothing more than to entwine hands with Hashirama, to wipe the slate clean and start all over with this whole mess, better this time. But... he hardly had the energy. Maybe if he just slept next to Hashirama, that would be good enough.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"There are people much better than me, Madara," Hashirama said and shook his head. He went to the fridge and took out rice and curry some female from the Sarutobi clan brought him earlier. He put chopsticks in it and brought it back to Madara. He looked at him again. The sight of Madara, swirling in his bed, was like a god's painting. He loved the man so much he couldn't even stand on his legs. </p><p>"You should totally eat," Hashirama whispered and sat on a bed. "You can stay here as long as you want. I don't want you to be alone," Hashirama said, immediately feeling uncomfortable about it. People could see. People could watch. People could think that they are doing some godforsaken things here. Hashirama clenched his fists. </p><p>"Do you want to take a bath?" he asked and stood up without waiting for the reply. He went to the bathroom and turned on the water. It took a while to fill. He needed to take a shower too, he almost forgot. He was concerned about Madara. Madara wasn't stable enough to face the Uchiha clan, or to the world alone. He needed someone, and Hashirama wanted to save him, take care of him, feed him and clean him.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara pouted, sitting up sleepily, taking the food. "Alright, who's better than you?" He picked at the food, but Hashirama's tenseness didn't go unnoticed. Madara probably gave him a weirder look than intended, but it was the right look.</p><p>"Why are you so uptight? We're war buddies, remember?" Madara rolled his eyes, popping some rice in his mouth. "We've gone drinking together, what, a thousand times now? Surely no one blinks at this point. They hardly blink at you." The food was helping. Maybe the queasiness was just emptiness. Still, he nibbled slowly.</p><p>But as Hashirama stood to start the bath, inquiring about Madara... the Uchiha's eyes glazed over. He tore his gaze away from the Senju. Madara should have been excited, but part of him panicked. Now he was just confused. One minute Hashirama wanted him enough to suck his dick, and the next he told Madara he didn't deserve him -- while still doing things that were so intimate, saying such lovely words. Madara couldn't see them any other way.</p><p>Sure, he felt sticky and gross. He did want to wash off. But he wasn't sure if walking was quite safe yet. The world still seemed to spin a little. Maybe if he crawled.</p><p>"Hashirama," he said, putting down the food. He didn't know what to say after that. Part of him wanted to ask for help getting to the bath (or what he hoped was a bath and not a shower; he would surely fall and bust open his head in the shower, especially in this state), and the other part of him wanted to interrogate the things Hashirama said. He felt so uneasy. But in the end, the latter had never worked out well. Madara felt like he was fighting to pull something out of Hashirama that wouldn't happen. But that didn't mean things were ruined. It didn't make him angry. Only with a little disappointment, Madara finally continued. "I don't know if I can walk right yet." He wouldn't get his hopes up. Not again.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"Someone who doesn't have my brain, Madara, anyone literally," Hashirama answered as his voice almost broke. </p><p>Then Hashirama just smiled through it. Was he really so uptight? Maybe the Hokage title changed him. He prioritized the village, the people in it, over himself and his well-being. He was perfectly fine with letting the love of his life get away for Konoha. He looked at Madara with deep sadness. He didn't want him to think he was so uptight. "And I had you fill my mouth, is that what war buddies do? Or is it what friends do?" Hashirama reminded Madara like he forgot about it. The truth was that Hashirama couldn't stop thinking about it. The whole week, even now. In moments of weakness, in situations that weren't appropriate for these dirty thoughts. He dreamed about it. About having Madara everywhere. </p><p>"I will bring you there," Hashirama said and caressed Madara's head. He was fine with taking Madara's clothes off. He believed that he would not lose control. Madara looked so helpless, like a little wounded bird that needed life support that was him. Part of him wanted to take him right away, but Madara wasn't in a state when he could make decisions on his own as it was mostly alcohol that would make the decisions instead of him. </p><p>Hashirama clenched his teeth. The questions lingered in his mind since the last time. "Madara, have you ever... done it before?" He asked and closed his eyes. He was mostly just curious. He could stand the thought of his lover with someone else; at least he thought so. If Madara said Hashirama was uptight, Hashirama wanted to loosen at least some of his boundaries. Ask questions that weren't that nice. What more could he want? Madara loved him. And Hashirama loved Madara, with the burning hurt and tragedy.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"Someone who didn't have your brain would surely drive me mad," Madara retorted. The grogginess was not going away. God, he'd probably fall asleep in the tub, and he didn't mind at this point. Hashirama was all over him.</p><p>At Hashirama's mention, the image of him sucking Madara's cock flashed in full force. As if Madara could forget for that long. Somehow, despite its energy, the memory also made him feel safe. Maybe it was the fact Hashirama mentioned it, the fact that he finally spoke about their love for what it was.</p><p>He didn't want to argue about this. "It's what we did. And we liked it. I liked it. Did you?" And the question of 'doing it' only seemed to answer Madara's own silent inquiries. Those doubts were dying now. He squinted at the Senju, still. He was going to milk this for what it was worth. He tried not to smile, but one cracked anyway, and he grinned at the ground. "Have I done what, Hashirama? Jerked off to the thought of you?" He just had to tease. Hashirama's responses always fuelled him.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"And I'm not driving you mad?" Hashirama asked and put his hand next to Madara's other side. He smiled thinking about it. Sometimes he wondered why Madara was even trying with him. He was as dumb as rock and he was also as fast. Hashirama grabbed a bottle and sipped from it. It was now half full, just like Hashirama's existence. </p><p>"I..." Hashirama breathed. He didn't like it. He loved it. He loved the way he could show Madara his affection. It was the only way to show Madara what he felt for him, because words were never enough. Satisfying Madara made him happy. He wanted nothing more than to watch Madara struggle with branches, to fight the orgasm again. "I kind of liked it," Hashirama said jokingly, as if Madara had no idea how much Hashirama loved everything about it. </p><p>"I didn't mean that..." Hashirama said nervously. "But did you?" He asked while burying his nails into the mattress. He was turning red. The image of Madara, pleasing himself, thinking about him, crept into his mind like a smoking gun. "I meant if you have ever laid with a man before.. Or if someone took you to their mouth," Hashirama asked and watched Madara carefully.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"Oh, you drive me mad in the best of ways," Madara simpered. "And only kind of? How uncharacteristically cruel of you to lie." He smirked. He remembered Hashirama's moans, how eager he was to use his jutsu of all things. Madara didn't recall needing to clean up after himself either, a revelation which shocked him at the time. Either Hashirama was good at catching cum with no mess, or he swallowed it.</p><p>"Don't ask me to tell you how many times I've jerked off to you," Madara murmured, uncontrollable heat rising to his cheeks. Why on earth did he boast about that? It was embarrassing. "Just know that it's happened." He tried to move on quickly, but now the thought burned in his mind. His crotch was waking up after a long drunken slumber. Great. Just great.</p><p>"And yes," he answered. "I've lain with you. Although I really wished you had done more." Madara tried to act laid back, calm. At this point, the grogginess of the alcohol allowed him to do that with relative ease, but the one thing that gave him away was the tent-post bulge in his hakama. He was sitting just right for that, leaning on one arm, legs spread open and bent. He set himself up for this, to feel so exposed. Slowly, he bent his legs to hide the evidence. "How many people do you think realistically go for me? All I can do is handle things myself Hashirama."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"I really am as slow as summer air," Hashirama said slowly. There was a sadness on his tongue that constricted his neck. He felt guilty of driving the other man mad. The jutsu, power he abused. Power that was given to him by gods he just... blew it off like a heritage because of Madara. It was supposed to be his gift to counter Madara's gifts and he used it so selfishly. But, he had him right where he wanted him then. Hashirama thought that Madara knew Hashirama swallowed it. There wasn't a doubt about it in Hashirama's head when he had Madara in his mouth. He wanted it all, everything. Madara had his scars, but what had Hashirama left? All he could have was this. </p><p>Hashirama smiled. He found it sweet more than anything and the rush went right through him. He wanted to see it, but that would be an invasion of privacy, wanting Madara to show it. Hashirama noticed something, but he looked away so Madara wouldn't have to feel bad. He wanted to see it so bad. </p><p>"So you have never had sex before this?" Hashirama was surprised. "Everyone. You don't know how divine your beauty is. How charismatic you are. You radiate something mysterious people would love. I think that you don't know how special you are... Who wouldn't go for you? I do... And I don't go for anyone else, so you must really... Be something else, don't you know, my dear?" Hashirama whispered. "I will take you to the bath, is that ok?" Hashirama asked gently and softly to touch Madara's hand.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"No, I haven't," he murmured. "Have you?" Hashirama's compliments, Madara absorbed them, but yet he didn't quite feel them either. Somehow, their last encounter stayed stuck in his mind. Maybe it was the depressing qualities of the alcohol. His anxiety was hardly relieved. That was why he started drinking to begin with. Everything from Hashirama to his clan, he just couldn't deal with it all. Somehow, none of those fears had gone away, not even in Hashirama's presence. The Senju's hand took his, and Madara curled into Hashirama's chest, helpless. At first, between them, this feeling was wonderful to Madara. He was so afraid to let himself be vulnerable again. Slowly, he took in a breath. He was okay. Hashirama was staying with him this time. His friend already promised that much. That was all Madara needed, if nothing else.</p><p>"I'm ready," he murmured, closing his eyes, waiting for the Senju to take him as he was.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama looked at Madara and raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I did," he said mysteriously and then laughed nervously. He was glad he didn't let his control slip. He couldn't just take Madara on the floor, that would be unacceptable given the situation. Hashirama saw the fears in Madara's eyes, so he tried to quiet them by squeezing his hand. "I really would.. If I was a little more brave. But I'm not." </p><p>"Don't worry. You're just drunk, but I promise you that you're going to laugh about this in the morning," he whispered and lifted Madara in his arms. It must have looked so comical, one man holding another, that Hashirama wanted to grin. Actually, he wanted nothing but to grin since the moment Madara told him he loved him; but it was already a long time ago and Madara probably forgot, which made it bittersweet. Hashirama took Madara to the bathroom and helped him onto the bathroom mat. He didn't think this through. He was constantly getting himself into these questionable situations, no wonder he ended up in these situations, like doing bad things with people he wasn't supposed to think about, which was franky only Madara. Which, ironically, was the only person Hashirama longed for in his thoughts and dreams. He couldn't wonder how he ended up with him in his mouth. He was asking for it by his bad choices. </p><p>"I will leave you alone if you want, but I don't want you to drown..." Hashirama said and squeezed Madara's clothes.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara felt a bit of annoyance at the insinuation he was drunk, or rather, that he was too drunk to think straight. Even though his body felt tired and weak, he was improving. Hashirama had been right about the food. But Madara leveled no complaint and let himself be carried into the bathroom. He closed his eyes against the man he loved. God, he loved too deeply. Maybe he was too drunk. Maybe Hashirama was right, that he would laugh at himself in the morning, and start drinking all over again, and forget. But he didn't want to. He wanted to hear Hashirama's voice in his ears in the morning. He wanted to fall asleep in Hashirama's arms, in his bed together, like children, only grown. He wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever.</p><p>"Don't leave," he mumbled at the question. He was sure he could keep himself from drowning. Or maybe he couldn't. He wasn't actually sure about that, but that wasn't why he wanted Hashirama to stay. Madara clung to him and pulled himself back into Hashirama's chest. His cheek plastered against Hashirama's collar, Madara buried his face in Hashirama's neck like a child. But his lips found skin, and he kissed it. He didn't have the energy to speak. All he could do was hold himself against Hashirama. This was all he wanted, more than anything.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>He let Madara kiss his bare skin. The lips on his neck felt like a storm came over him. Was this really the start of their secret affair? Hashirama glanced at Madara longingly and opened Madara's yukata and helped him to get the cloth of his shoulders. Damn, just a second ago Hashirama thought that he had some self control and pride. But it went down the drain once he saw Madara's arms and naked shoulders. And his chest. Hashirama wondered what was wrong with him. He wasn't supposed to lose control like this, he was a shinobi, yet he was falling on his knees when Madara looked like this, it was amazing and terrifying at the same time. Was he just horny? Or was it because it was Madara, his childhood best friend? Hashirama helped Madara get out of the clothing, hands sweating, warm waves all over his body. </p><p>"You are too beautiful for your own good," he chuckled, thanking god he wasn't the naked one, because this way he could.. hide every proof. He needed to calm down.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara let his clothes slide off. Hashirama's touch was gentle and natural. It was happening all over again. The momentum was slow but steady. Fear struck his heart again, being so vulnerable all over again. Maybe if he wouldn't remember all of this, he wouldn't need to be so afraid. If he woke up in the morning, and he didn't remember a thing...</p><p>He'd feel empty. Again.</p><p>No, he wanted to remember it. He glanced up as Hashirama's voice vibrated in his ears. He was the beautiful one? He, Madara? He didn't feel beautiful. He didn't feel like anything worth all of Hashirama's fear. His friend, his soulmate, the one that haunted his dreams and filled them all at the same time, he sat there knelt with Madara, taking off his clothes, smiling at him, taking kisses on the neck, when...</p><p>Wordlessly, Madara let his hand brush behind Hashirama's neck, pulled himself close, or Hashirama closer, and kissed him. It was bold. But all his fears disappeared just for a moment. These lips, the same as before... Madara needed them. Not because he needed someone to kiss him, but because he needed Hashirama to kiss him. He needed <em> him </em>. Madara could do a  great many things alone. But he never wanted to, not ever again. Everything he did, he wanted to be accompanied by his one and only friend, the love of his life, the last one on this Earth he would ever love this way. There was no getting around it, not anymore. Madara was hopeless alone, and this... this was all he had left. And he let it go for too long. He let himself go. And this was grabbing hold. This was waking up. This was sobriety and inebriation all in one. This was his dream, not the village. All of that could wait. Hashirama was his sole purpose in life. Nothing else mattered.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>He kissed Madara back. He couldn't help himself but to continue and prolong the kiss. He was already too deep, sunken to the bottom like a battleship that lost the fight. He wanted to make everything alright for Madara. Hashirama was just asking for it, having Madara naked on the bathroom floor. The situation was a mess and after a few seconds, Hashirama pulled away a little bit and grinned. He couldn't help but smile while keeping his hand on Madara's face. He was happy, for a second. </p><p>"You should take a bath so you can relax," Hashirama whispered to Madara's ear. He needed to relax too. Hashirama lifted himself from the ground and started to help Madara get in. Hashirama wanted the world to stop, to stay like this forever. He didn't need anything more. He didn't need to make hard decisions or think about people's perception. He just had Madara and his well-being on his mind. </p><p>But after that, his doubts crept in again. The world could never stay like this. It was always changing. He couldn't just have Madara so close forever. It wasn't in the cards or in the stars. His chest tightened. He wanted to cry, but then the whole atmosphere would be ruined. No, he needed to be strong this time for Madara. </p><p>Hashirama always found Madara gorgeous, there was no other way around it. Even when they were kids and he had no idea what the love was or if he loved Madara then... maybe he did. Maybe he loved him first, from the very first day. He wasn't sure it was a lie. </p><p>Madara in the bath was another sight he didn't expect would make him shiver. He must have been cursed. </p><p>"I might go train tomorrow if the weather is nice, care to join?" Hashirama asked, trying to change the topic from his primary urges. Then he went quiet. "What happened to your mother anyway?" Yes, good, parents were always a safe bet.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Warmth radiated from Madara's face as his friend smiled at him through the kiss, and even after. His heart fluttered, his body responded. As Hashirama guided him into the tub, already, his head was spinning for a different reason. He was so obviously erect it was almost embarrassing. But Hashirama didn't seem to mind. He wasn't nervous. And as Madara settled his shoulders beneath the surface of the water, careful to keep his hair out, he enjoyed Hashirama's gaze upon him. He rested his arms upon the tub wall, his chin resting on his forearms, a smile on his lips as he stared deeply into the Senju's beautiful hazel eyes. So this was what romantic love was.</p><p>He chuckled at the question of training. Of course he would love to. "I'll be on my feet in no time, thanks to you. I'd love to come."</p><p>But the question of his mother... Madara hardly expected that turn. Still, Hashirama was so sincere. The Senju's gaze had a look of inquiry, a blush still apparent on his cheeks, despite his nervous eyes.</p><p>"She died when my last brother was born. I hardly remember her." That wasn't quite true. He remembered her some. But he was so young. And the glimpses of her always inevitably reminded him of his father. Tajima was never like her, and Madara barely knew his mother at all. What he did remember, he felt in Hashirama's arms, though. And maybe that was the allure. Madara knew he was safe in Hashirama's arms, just like he had always felt with Mother, no matter how brief. And without them, he felt exposed, alone, and unworthy.</p><p>"What about you?"</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama was terrified of how Madara was calm now. He didn't even mind what was happening with his body. Hashirama could only wish he would be this comfortable one day. But he was glad he could keep his clothes on. The thought of training made him happy. They could get away from Konoha and they could have some fun without alcohol. </p><p>Hashirama touched Madara's cheek. "I'm sorry. No child deserves to go through this," Hashirama whispered. He felt an even stronger urge to protect Madara from everyone and everything. He wished he could take Madara somewhere desolate where only two of them could live, alone and safe, so Madara wouldn't have to worry. He wanted to wake up next to him, kiss him goodnight and go to adventures with him. He wanted to get away, but this time with Madara. Maybe even go to vacation. And never come back. But he couldn't even think about leaving because Konoha needed his care. People needed him here and Hashirama sometimes felt like he was in a cage, like they kept him in prison.</p><p>"My mother? I haven't really talked to her since I was five. She left. But she has a nice life now, better than with us, I think..." Hashirama breathed in. He was ashamed his own mother didn't even.. want to know him. She didn't even try to recognize that Hashirama wasn't Butsuma. She just accepted him and Tobirama as Butsuma's sons, which made Hashirama angry and embarrassed. So he laughed, so Madara wouldn't recognize how much shame he felt.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara brushed his head against Hashirama's hand, the touch further intensifying his insides. He loved that he could be like this in front of Hashi, just naked and normal, natural and unafraid. He let his lips ghost the palm of Hashirama's hand.</p><p>"War is a strange thing," he murmured. "It tears people apart. And even in peacetime, people find new ways to do the same, somehow." His hand interlaced with Hashirama's. Despite his laughter, his eyes seemed off. No one laughed about their own abandonment. Madara knew that. Still, he didn't know what to say.</p><p>"People are selfish," he murmured, kissing Hashirama's knuckles. "That's how we all are, for better or for worse. No matter what we do, no matter how good, there will always be someone hurt by it, darkness left in our wake, despite even our best efforts. It seems a stretch to say your mother hated you, but you know that best. But you were only a child. It wasn't your fault. And she made a decision for herself, as much as it hurt you. Knowing what little I do of your father, I don't know if I blame her for wanting to leave at least."</p><p>Madara sighed, squeezing Hashirama's hand. His friend always looked pristine, healthy, and happy. And yet in this moment, his eyes were anything but.</p><p>"Come in with me. You need refreshment just as much as me." He smiled, rubbing Hashirama's hand with his thumb. "I'll wash your back for you. And maybe I'll even throw in your hair too, if you buy within the next thirty seconds." It was too fun to tease him. God, Madara missed his lips. If they could only kiss more, he'd be happy. His eyes lingered on his friend, the deep brown arch of his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips, the angle of his chin. He was exquisite. And Madara knew him inside and out.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama watched Madara. Not only he was naked, but so were his words. And Hashirama felt out of place. So he stretched his hand and placed his thumb on Madara's lips. He saw his mother leave; he could easily imagine Madara leaving too. That was another one of his fears. That Madara didn't care about Konoha, about their baby, as much as Hashirama did. Although Hashirama couldn't stand how people perceived Madara, the village was where his heart was. And the thought that Madara's heart was somewhere else tore him apart. </p><p>"Sometimes I am selfish," he said and stood up. "Well, who would want to have Tobirama as a son? I would leave too!" Hashirama said jokingly so he wouldn't have to tell Madara how awful and unlovable he felt. Because if Hashirama wasn't able to make his own mother love him, how could he believe that anybody else would be fond of him? "Now that I think about it, it's a miracle our fathers weren't able to really sever the bond between us. Although I was a much worse son than you," Hashirama laughed, noticing only the lines of Madara's wet eyelashes. It was just him and Madara, like the rest of the world got quiet. </p><p>"I will wash your hair," Hashirama stopped breathing for a second. He didn't need to refuse Madara's offer aloud. He wasn't going to take off his clothes in front of Madara. He was shaking again, afraid of what Madara would do about his refusal. Then he filled an old wooden bucket with water and he carefully poured it over Madara's black, beautiful hair. He already had goosebumps from watching Madara's stern back. There was something about every part of Madara's body, something that drove him crazy. The thought of taking Madara right on the spot appeared in his mind, sharp like a paper cut. And also as temporary. He sat on the side of the bath and kissed Madara's wet hair. The poetry of his emotions was slowly destroying him, he was slowly becoming their slave, just barely trying to hide his excitement. "Do you ever think about leaving the village?" Hashirama asked his friend. Why would he pour himself into Madara's arms if the man would leave in the end anyway?</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama... Madara couldn't keep his finger on him. It was to be expected. Hashirama was always better at everything than him. But watching the man be so dodgy—this was difficult. Madara could only wonder why as he got turned around, water dumped on his own head. And then, the feeling of Hashi's lips on his head? God, this man...</p><p>Madara leaned his head back, not bothering to look particularly thrilled, despite the affection he was receiving. The question of him leaving the village alarmed and confused him. Why on earth would he ever leave? Certainly, things were on the rocks right now, but... things always worked out in the end. Didn't they? Madara didn't know. His mind was too all over the place. "I don't know about that," was all he could do to answer. His mind was plagued with Hashirama instead.</p><p>"Hashi..." Something in his friend was so unrecognizable, it scared him. "You seem so stressed." No, it was more than stress. Something just wasn't right. Madara could feel it in the air, in the way Hashirama's chakra fluctuated. What was happening? And somehow, this all made Madara start to shrink back inside himself again. The pain of chasing and chasing... it was exhausting, without release, without closure. Maybe Madara was becoming too invested. He didn't want to see himself as unreasonable. They were friends. They always had been. They knew each other so well, it didn't make sense to have fear with one another. And yet, here they both were. Hashirama seemed so closed off, so nervous, and Madara couldn't figure out why. Was it his reputation? The hokage didn't have the luxury to look bad on accident, but...</p><p>Madara activated his Sharingan. If Hashirama was worried about being seen like this, it was a wild fear. No one here spied on the hokage. No one was even around. It was so late at night, most people were asleep. Madara shook his head and deactivated his eyes. If anyone would know who was around first, it was Hashirama. So what was he so afraid of?</p><p>══════════════</p><p>He didn't know? Madara... Didn't know? Hashirama, sitting behind Madara, put his hand over his mouth in secret. The words pierced through him. Maybe if he was strong enough, if he was brave, he would get naked, he would go into bath with Madara and then, maybe then Madara wouldn't say that he doesn't know. Maybe then Madara would tell him that he will not leave him. He couldn't keep his composure. He dove his hand into the water and he splashed water into his face so he would wake up from the spiral of his thoughts that was bringing him as a tidal wave to the bottom of his emotions. He felt like a desperate little mess. Little kid trying to make its parents love him. </p><p>"Will you leave if I will not go to the bathtub with you? Will it lessen the chance if I will just..." He said, beaten down. This was twisted. He felt tremble in his shoulders. He was never very keen about being naked. He actually hated it and he didn't feel alright with having no clothes when near Madara. But he would do it, he would do everything to keep Madara in the village. He would fuck him, he would wreck him as best as he could, he would fulfill all Madara's dirtiest wishes and he would do it every day just to have Madara close. </p><p>"I'm stressed. You are taking my mind by the storm and I can't have my peace. Even if you're not talking to me, I still think about you... And then you appear and you are never happy with me, yet you want me to be here with you. And Tobirama does the same thing, the whole Konoha does it. And I used to be able to stand the pressure, but with you..." Hashirama clenched his teeth. He put his arm towards Madara, he pulled him closer and kissed his lips gently. He didn't want Madara to feel like he was alone in this, but Hashirama certainly felt like he was. He was happy, but also very troubled. The situation was too delicate and unstable, it could break into a thousand pieces.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara was so confused. Was that what this was all about? When had Madara ever threatened to leave? Was Hashirama that terrified of abandonment? Somehow, it felt all too similar to what Madara had felt, naked and cold on the floor those days prior. It was how he felt begging for something in return for all of his failed attempts to rile Hashirama up. So they were both the same, really. Both so obsessed with the fear of loneliness that they isolated themselves. Madara didn't want that.</p><p>He pulled Hashirama in closer and kissed him again. Deeper this time. Longer. If Madara could speak through kisses, this would all be so clear. He parted only a little, gazing with eyes half open into those of his friend. "You don't need to always be so strong, you know," he murmured. "I'm the only one here. All I want is to love you. And I'd love you even if you failed. I'd never leave you. Nothing could compel me so far as to leave you, Hashirama."</p><p>Nothing... except the pain. If this kept going, back and forth, friends to lovers to friends to strangers... If the disagreements kept happening, if things didn't improve... It just hurt too much, no matter how much Madara wanted to. There was only so much he could take as well... He wanted so badly for this to work, but if it didn't, if Hashirama just couldn't do it... That was alright. Madara just had to know. He had to know where the line was, what to expect anymore. One minute they were friends, only friends, friends who didn't kiss, and the next minute they were friends who kissed, friends who loved like spouses, lovers. It was too confusing to endure entirely in the dark. Maybe Madara was getting too old for this now. Maybe he needed stability, just as Hashirama did. They just needed to know, together.</p><p>"Tell me how to love you best, Hashi," he murmured, caressing his friend's cheeks. "Tell me what you need from me. Whatever it is."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama's relationships were fleeting. He had many friends, yet those mostly just shallow bonds that never got deeper. He drank with them and they loved his presence, but Hashirama felt like they never understood him. No one did, except for Madara. Hashirama was so charmed by the man, he desperately wanted Madara to understand him. He was obsessed with the bond he shared with Madara. He never had anyone get this close (except for maybe Tobirama in dark times). He never let anyone be this close to him. It was just a spot reserved for Madara from the first time he saw him. He just knew from that day it was Madara, it has always been Madara and now it all started to make sense. </p><p>But people whispered about Madara. About him stealing his brother's eyes. About how he put a spell on Hashirama. But damn, Hashirama wouldn't even be angry if that was the case because he had never been happier. Hashirama squeezed almost the whole bottle of shampoo into Madara's silk hair and started to massage his scalp gently. </p><p>"This is where you are wrong. I need to be strong. I'm supposed to inspire people, I can't break down because of my stupid broken heart," Hashirama smiled, this time no pretending. "I always have to be strong. For my clan. For the village. For you, Madara, even for you," he sighed while caressing Madara's hair. Madara didn't want to leave him. And Hashirama's heart suddenly felt warm in soft feathers. His hope, the constantly flashing light on his front door, was now shining brightly . He calmed down. </p><p>Hashirama needed stability, but was it stability if he had to fight the village he loved so much? What if they would cast him out? Would they love him as much if they knew he was crazy about Madara, would they love him if he slept with him, would they love him if he claimed Madara as his? "I don't think you should love me, Madara... I don't feel deserving of your love. But... I'm sensitive and I get overwhelmed easily. I don't want you to change for me, I prefer you as you are, as my beautiful calamity and disaster," Hashirama laughed and kissed Madara. "I just need to accept it for what it is, you loving me. It's not something I thought would happen. And I feel very blessed, but no one ever loved me and I have no idea what to do."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara closed his eyes, letting Hashirama massage his scalp with the shampoo. The heat from the bath was starting to make him sweat, but he didn't mind. It was a loving kind of warmth.</p><p>"Life is a cycle of failures and rebirths." The feeling of Hashirama's fingers rubbing circles on his hair, it made Madara's toes curl with pleasure. "It happens because we break down and learn. It's in our nature to do so. It's hardly fair to expect anything more out of ourselves. We fail, we learn, we recover. That is our lives, Hashi." Madara could feel the suds running down his face now. Glad he had his eyes closed, he only wished he could reach out and touch Hashirama, hold him. "We all need moments of rest and recuperation if we are to be strong. And maybe I could be that for you, despite my chaos, as you would put it." He chucked, the sour taste of soap landing on his lips. Good grief.</p><p>A disaster, was he? A calamity? Maybe that wasn't so far off. That was what everyone else saw him as. A spot, a stain. Hashirama's qualifier was that he was a beautiful one. "You told me on that hill above the village, when you told me you wanted me to be hokage, you said that I should think of everyone in this village as my brethren, as my family. Doesn't that apply to you? A family doesn't exist without love, not the family you choose for yourself. You want so badly to be loved and yet can't accept the idea that I would love you." Where was Madara even going with this? He was fighting again. Pushing. He couldn't help it. Maybe he could. But he could see what he wanted. He just wanted this to be normal. He wanted everything to feel normal, how it was when they were kids. He wanted to cut off the rest of the world, or for it to not matter, and he wanted to stay in Hashirama's arms forever. Whatever the cost, he would pay it just to do that. Yet, no matter how many times he said it, it seemed the dream wasn't for sale. The price jumped and jumped, in numbers Madara couldn't quite read. He kept placing bets and guessing, but it was never right. What was this? Some kind of game.</p><p>He couldn't open his eyes, he couldn't see his friend's face. He could only hear his voice, occasionally feel his lips. He wanted a promise of forever on that. He wanted a promise of love. He wanted to open up for that, forever. He didn't want brevity; that was the language of war. He didn't want any more pain. He wanted Hashirama here and now, or sometime soon, just to have and hold, to be held by him and never released. It was so much to ask, and yet, Madara didn't feel unreasonable. But he felt wretched asking anyway. Like he pushed too hard, like their dreams weren't aligned anymore. He wanted them to be.</p><p>"I want to love you. I already do. I want to show you how much I love you. This is only for you, Hashirama. The whole world will never know how much we care for each other, and let them beg to understand, if they can even conceive it to begin with. I adore you, I need you, I want you, all day every day. I'm a mess for you, I'm sure you know it. I'm no good at hiding it. And I'll stay a mess, a wild, overwhelming mess that my clan abhors, if it means that the world never suspects our love. I'll do anything to make it happen, to keep us united at the soul. So tell me what I can do. Tell me what you need. I'll do it." Desperately, Madara needed him. And he needed the soap washed out of his eyes, good god.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama filled the bucket with water again and started to wash out the shampoo. He felt much sober now. He always knew that Madara would never give him anything other than chaos. There might have been peace in the Fire country, but Hashirama would never receive peace from Madara. But that was a part of Madara's allure - that he kept Hashirama on his toes. Even when Madara thought that Hashirama was stronger, the truth was that Hashirama had to try very hard to be stronger. He trained too much, ate only the best foods, slept enough and constantly thought about his strategies. It didn't come naturally to him as Madara was thinking. He was a hard worker and Madara was the only person who challenged him. Maybe Hashirama never wanted the true peace between them at all. </p><p>"You know me, Madara. Probably better than Tobirama. You can see through me, like into my guts. And you accept me, with all my faults only you are able to see. No one else sees them... No one else knows what a coward I am. And you know and you don't mind, you see right through the mask and I accept you. I don't like you only because you are kind and smart, but I also adore you for the parts of you that belong to the darkness, for you being a mess... I wouldn't want it any other way," Hashirama said, grabbed a towel and started to rub Madara's face with it. He wasn't very used to people being as kind to him as Madara and it left him wanting to cry. He felt like the frozen pond inside of him was melting. Like the dark blue winter was leaving. Like it was spring, the Earth was waking up and the snowdrops were ready to bloom. </p><p>"But are you willing to live in secret? Do you really want to risk that someone... someday will tell on us? Do you think I can look at you as a friend? Do you think that no one will notice our long stares full of desire?" Hashirama asked and took Madara's arm to help him stand. He wanted to remember Madara like this forever. So helpless yet stunning. It was hard to imagine that anyone wouldn't love him. Madara's body was perfect, he looked like a sculptor himself designed him. His breath accelerated. "If you can turn your words into deeds and gestures, I will be the happiest man in the country," he smiled. It was unfair that they had to hide it, something Hashirama wasn't yet able to define.  Why were other people so lucky to throw their romances around like stinky meat, yet them, quite innocent, had to hide behind smoke and mist, walls and curtains? </p><p>"I don't want anything from you, Madara. I don't have any manual and honestly, I have no idea what is going to happen. I just want you to be yourself," Hashirama put his face close to Madara's and kissed his cheek. He wanted to kiss his whole body. He wanted Madara to kiss his whole body. "I will help you go to bed."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"You want me to be myself then," Madara said. "You want me to turn my words into deeds and gestures. Do you know what you're asking of me?" He gripped Hashirama's arms, gently, but his eyes, his chest, they were filled with seriousness. How silly Madara was, taking steps like this, but Hashirama's words empowered him, perhaps unintentionally. "I need to clarify that with you. I'll ruin myself to the world just for you. But I need to hear you say it. I won't take what isn't mine. The world will never know you asked, they'll say I stole it from you. Let them think that, Hashirama. Let them think that I'm the evil one, and start your war against me. Strike back at me. Take back what's yours, and take a piece of me with you, so that I'll have to come running back to swipe your heart. And we'll play this game forever, you and I. Or we won't play it at all, and we'll end it, dead minutes after birth. But I don't want that. So tell me if you're ready to lose to me right now. Tell me if you're ready to fight for your life here. If you are, then say it to me. And if you're not... I'm chaos, as you said. There's no telling what I might do."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama didn't like the threatening shade of this conversation. Maybe he should have told Madara he needed patience. The worst part was that he adored Madara even when he acted like this. In all seriousness Madara looked like an angel of death. He wasn't sure what was the other thing, but life was but a gamble. And Hashirama was curious. "Do you want me to fight you just to beat you down and bring you back? Why do you want to play this cruel game?" Hashirama chuckled and helped Madara to get to his bed. "What's the worst thing you would do? Hurt yourself?" he asked with concern and placed a palm on his cheek. </p><p>"I think I might try to lose to you, for once," Hashirama laughed for once. He wasn't really sure what he agreed to. "But you don't have to ruin yourself," he said and sat on the bed. Maybe he was too dodgy and Madara changed his mind, just like that, leaving him. "Please, just stay here, in Konoha, whatever happens between us," Hashirama lowered his chin. "There are things I will probably never get over. And things I will have to deal with all by myself."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara was at a loss. "If that's the only way you'll touch me, then I want to ruin myself, yes."</p><p>So much for being dominant. Madara tried. He was no good at this. Nothing he did stuck, at least not in his eyes. And when that happened, those feelings of desperation would come in all over again. All those stupid tears. Madara really didn't want to cry again. How many times would this be in a week? Alcohol didn't excuse it. He was already starting to feel sober, despite his weakness. He wanted to reach for Hashirama's shirt, to pull it open himself, to be allowed to do that, or maybe to steal that moment for himself. His hand reached out, grasped Hashirama's collar, but no tug came. He couldn't do it. He couldn't rob his friend of that choice, not when he seemed so unsure. He wanted Hashirama to ask for this. And he turned it down every time.</p><p>"Of course I'll stay." It felt horrible. His insides felt wretched. He wanted to stay, and he wanted to be loved. That was maybe his only condition. If Hashirama was the only person who loved him in the entire village, that was fine. But he wanted to feel that love in deeper ways... Whether they lived in secret or not, he wanted to feel it, truly. "You said you wanted actions, not just words; deeds and gestures. Well, I want that too Hashirama... I'll do this all in secret as long as we can truly do our worst to each other without fear, just like you did to me. I want you to do what you did to me a thousand times over. I want you to take me again and again." He could feel himself shaking. "I don't want to ever fear the day you say 'no more.' I keep asking you for it in every way I can think of. I want this for us. I want to feel you want it, and I don't want you to be afraid and pull away at the end... You say you don't want me to leave; well, I don't want you to leave either. I don't want you to get cold feet on me."</p><p>"If we do this, I want to do it all the way. I'm not interested in a one-time fling with you. This is not casual to me. I love you. I want to learn how to love you, to grow with you and love you better. And it's okay if you need time. We have time, Hashi. But..." His body quivered. "Don't start and stop like this. Don't kiss me and then say we can't be in love. Please... Just tell me where you are... Please keep talking to me... And for god's sake, if you ever want to kiss me, please don't hold back. Please just kiss me. Please just stop me in my tracks and take me for yourself. I need that so badly. All the time. You don't even know, Hashi..."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"I'm not sure where I am. I don't know where I end and where you begin. I feel like I've been doing everything for everyone for so long that I completely forgot about myself. And I don't know what I feel," Hashirama kissed the back of Madara's hand. And then his knuckles. They would meet again on drunken nights. Hopeless, not knowing what to do. Intertwined walking through the night village. </p><p>"But I need more time. I don't know how much. I've never been in this position and I don't know how to act. The people I had... they didn't love me. It was easier. But with you, if something was to go wrong, it would shatter me. I trust you the most, but I don't trust myself," with that confession the castles and their towers fell down. Hashirama was trying hard to open. </p><p>"It's not your fault, Madara. Just months ago you were just a memory, a flashback in an old movie. I screamed your name from my sleep. And I thought it would anger you. I longed for you in my weakest moments and I wept for you, trying to make you join me. I didn't have one photograph of you. I had nothing left from you, not even scars. It was like you didn't even know me and I just made up our adventures in my head. My whole world felt so made up. I dreamt of you when I was with someone else. Of your hands and of your voice. And now I have you, like I imagined a million times. Now I can touch you. It's like my dreams came true, but I'm just afraid I will ruin it all by some stupid gesture. I want to enjoy the little things now. I want to sleep in the shadow of your hair and wake up to the sound of your voice. And then fall asleep again with your hair on my forehead. And be jealous of the sun in your charcoal colored eyes," Hashirama breathed in. He wanted to throw up his guilt into the toilet. </p><p>Hashirama wanted to do everything the right way too. He wanted to light up candles for Madara, just everything that a person was supposed to do. He wanted Madara to be comfortable. He didn't want to do it during a drunken night. Hashirama kissed Madara's forehead again. "Just keep on challenging me, I beg you, my dear... Don't let me get lazy. Lazy with you and lazy about life..." Hashirama then stopped. "I also always wanted children.."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>For a moment, Madara was speechless. He couldn't believe Hashirama really said all of that. It was the first time Madara felt unstuck in... only the gods knew how long. Weeks. Months. Maybe even years.</p><p>"I'll always challenge you, old friend, whether you like it or not," Madara murmured. His hand was still entwined with Hashirama's, and it was his turn to kiss the man's fingers. His eyes lay still on Hashirama's gaze, studying deeply. "Stay in bed with me tonight. And when we wake up, let's eat together and go to the training grounds."</p><p>He whispered, wrapping his naked arms around Hashirama's neck, careful not to press his soaked body onto Hashirama's clothes (he wasn't that thoughtless). "Is it moving too quickly if I kiss you, love? I don't think I'll be able to live with myself if I don't at least kiss you good night, too." Maybe it was just the way Madara related to the world. He loved to touch and feel. Words were nice to a point. But actions—touching, rubbing, squeezing, kissing, moaning—those were his ways of showing adoration and love. Maybe Hashirama had a different way. Gestures, perhaps, as he mentioned before.</p><p>He smiled flirtatiously, continuing. "And I'm sure we could figure out children, Hashi. That's not a hard problem, I assure you." His hands trailed slowly down Hashirama's chest and sides, eyes deep. He watched Hashirama's every micro-reaction, every movement and expression. At his love's hips, he squeezed. God, he wanted to kiss this man. To squeeze his ass and feel Hashi's hardness against his thigh, to feel Hashi's tongue in his mouth. That made him feel so close, so connected.</p><p>Madara nearly shivered, the air cold against his dripping body. But his gaze did not break from Hashirama, not once. Keep challenging him? Easy.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>There was no way Hashirama would sleep on a couch, in contrast to Madara's thinking. He always prefered bed. "I have to talk to Tobirama in the office by the morning," Hashirama sighed. Tobirama. He wished it was easier with him, but he made the whole situation much more tragic for Hashirama. It wasn't about Tobirama getting pissed if he knew. It was about yelling, outcry, screaming, cursing... Tobirama, his brother, would probably never learn to talk to him again. Hashirama had to choose every single day. </p><p>He smiled at Madara and nodded. He liked kissing Madara. It was so different than any other possible bliss. It was so different from kissing other people that he didn't love and they didn't love him. Strands of Madara's hair tickled his neck. "You can always kiss me, Madara. Just don't do it in front of Tobirama," Hashirama chuckled, going back to his brother in his mind. But despite all of this, Hashirama was never fond of touching. Sometimes touches felt like slaps and blows. Actually, he would prefer slaps, because he could return it and scream at the other person to stop. With Madara's gentle fingers it wasn't as hurtful, but Hashirama had no idea what would happen if Madara tried more. But he wanted to touch Madara at his own terms. The thought of being able to do anything to him excited him. So he touched Madara's bare chest. </p><p>Hashirama clenched teeth after Madara touched him, unsure what's to come. He already was hard; how could he not be, with Madara naked next to him? But he just wanted to lay next to him. Madara's presence made him high as a poison of some kind. "How is it easy?" Hashirama looked at Madara, grinning. "I'm not able to take care of a baby. I need someone to do it for me. I said I wanted a child, not to take care of a child," he chuckled. Then he kissed Madara's lips himself.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara chuckled into Hashirama's lips. His tongue glided easily, slow and gentle across Hashirama's lip, once, and then another time. In between slow, deliberate, passionate kisses, Madara loved to pause and open his eyes, just to peek at Hashirama's expressions. Those moments of pause were the greatest moments, the ones that determined if one kiss was enough, or if three wasn't anywhere near enough. It was like standing on the edge of a glorious cliff—to jump, or not to jump? Madara chose to jump once more, sucking ever so slightly on Hashirama's lower lip. In their embrace, he became pressed against Hashirama's clothes. So much for keeping the poor man dry.</p><p>"I never said raising a child was easy," he said, letting his voice drop to a low register. "But if you don't want to raise a baby, but still want the child, maybe you should consider teaching." The hands on his chest warmed him. His body hummed low, on a vibration that pointed all of his desires directly at Hashirama. Tomorrow... Hashirama would have to get up to leave early. "Then I'll meet you at the training grounds later. Unless you want to work out some tonight..." A smile cracked on his lips, and his heart had already started beating quickly. Slow down, he told himself. Easy. "Or, I can rub your shoulders and back for you, since you carried my ass all the way here from that festival."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama squinted his eyes and smiled everytime between the kisses. And although only kissing, for him it was a peak of intimacy between them. He wondered how long Madara was willing to wait. When would his patience run dry? When would he just leave if Hashirama will only keep kissing him? He didn't want Madara to walk away on him because he was so slow and simple. It couldn't possibly be enough for him. </p><p>"Come on, I train every day with much heavier things than you," Hashirama laughed and put his arm beneath Madara's legs. Carrying Madara was like carrying feathers. "Me? Teach?" Hashirama laughed. "I was kicked out of our little clan's school when I was maybe twelve. I have nothing to teach as I know nothing," Hashirama smiled and kissed Madara's neck. And then again. "I'm too tired to go training now. I also don't think I would last a long time fighting you, especially with my current state," Hashirama admitted. Madara's shoulder blades, his alabaster skin, the soft pit between his collarbone, the bold lines on his abdomen, his innocent hips.. It was all driving him crazy the past week. He wondered if it was really a damned spell that made him so obsessed with Madara. He once believed that it was a gift from heaven, but now he considered it might be a curse from hell. And Madara smelled like a sunny spring morning with drops of dew glistening on its grass. No, he needed to stop long for Madara so visibly. </p><p>Hashirama stood up and left. He took a quick shower, changed his clothes in the bathroom to a dark-blue night kimono and brought Madara his grey one, with floral pattern. "You will be cold so naked," he laughed. Cold, but beautiful.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"Thank you." He took the clothes gratefully. Already he was starting to shiver. He dressed himself, watching Hashirama as he did.</p><p>"If you're so tired, come sit by me. Let me hold you for a bit. I'll rub your shoulders." Truth be told, Madara was exhausted, too. But he wanted to comfort his love. For once, his horniness was starting to wear thin. When he got to drinking so badly, it happened way too easily. But now, he could sense tiredness overtaking them both. He wanted Hashirama to feel the warmth of his hands. Maybe he even wanted to fall asleep beside Hashi. Just so he wouldn't wake up alone in a strange bed in the morning.</p><p>"Just for a little bit, before bed. Come lay in my lap, and I'll give you a shoulder massage."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Although a fighter with every piece of being, Hashirama never let anyone massage his body. He didn't really need it thanks to his regeneration, but it was also another thing that made him uncomfortable. But the thought of Madara doing it... Was much more attractive than he thought it would be. He hated sobering up, it usually made him sad. Hashirama, without thinking, probably for the first time, accepted one of Madara's offers. He laid in the lap of his friend, his brother, his lover. Unlike Madara, nothing of his was wearing thin and the state he found himself in didn't help. </p><p>The only solace was that tomorrow, he would get to train. Release his energy. Change the mood. Maybe then, the horniness would disappear. Hashirama hoped that once he was at the bottom of his strength, his brain would naturally turn off all these thoughts he never felt so intensely before. This week was especially bad. He couldn't focus on the papers or on meetings. It was a liability and he was telling himself he had the power to stop it, but the truth was that his body did whatever it wanted. Drunk or not. Tired or not. Close to Madara or not. It was bad, funny and highly inappropriate at the same time.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara gazed softly down at his lover. Gently moving Hashirama's hair out of the way so it wouldn't get caught, Madara pressed his thumbs behind Hashirama's shoulders. It wasn't hard; in fact, it was as gentle as Madara could muster. He wanted to start slow, just as gradual as Hashirama wanted. His remaining fingers pressed carefully into the front of his shoulders, and Madara rubbed small circles in Hashi's muscles. To feel his flesh like this; it was unreal. How long had it been since they really touched like this? To feel how real Hashirama was, to be with him like this in a quiet moment... It was better than prayer, better than the peace of any quiet mountain or stream. In the silence, he gazed down at the beautiful man, whose hair was sprawled everywhere, so gorgeously. Madara's hands reached the base of Hashirama's neck, and his thumbs pressed circles into his nape. Then, gently, he brought a thumb to brush on Hashirama's face.</p><p>"You're so pretty," he murmured, smiling softly. At the nape of Hashirama's neck, Madara's hand brushed Hashi's soft hair. This man was angelic. He wished all their nights could be like this. "Should I keep going?" he asked softly. "Anywhere else? Or is this enough?"</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama breathed steadily. Madara's hands on his back, on the sides of his neck. It was relaxing. Hashirama helped his kimono slide away from his shoulders. His bare back was fine, he thought, but immediately, goosebumps on his skin appeared. He wondered if Madara would leave for his house in the morning or if he would just stay here forever. </p><p>"Your clan was talking to me about you earlier," Hashirama whispered. "I don't want them to disobey you. They are like vultures, hungry for your beaten body. I don't understand why they hate you so, you're such a loving being... You have so much love in yourself, much more than me. It's like love comes naturally to you, you let it out just like that," Hashirama breathed in. Madara needed his help with the Uchiha clan. "Maybe we could make a celebration? I mean, you could throw a party, maybe a formal dinner would shut their ugly mouths up," he thought, touching Madara's thigh. </p><p>"Thank you. But I always thought you are prettier than me. You look softer and your skin is perfectly pale. And the contrast it plays with your dark hair. You're so above me," Hashirama chuckled. "But I'm taller therefore I have it better."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Madara sighed. He didn't want to think about his clan right now. But now, it was too late.</p><p>Slowly, his hands rolled over Hashirama's bare skin. The hand on his thigh warmed him.</p><p>"Do you think that would stop them?" Madara almost laughed, but nothing came out. He didn't have the energy to laugh them off anymore. "It's old clan politics. They've hated me since the war. I'm not sure anything I could do would change them. They've made up their minds."</p><p>Madara's thumbs pressed up the back of Hashirama's neck. "And I really don't think you've looked in a mirror lately, friend." Hashirama's sun-kissed skin always had him reeling. The way his cheeks looked when he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges. Hashirama was so soft. Madara leaned down, his dark hair spilling over his shoulders and around their faces like a veil. He brushed his lips on Hashi's forehead, just above those perfect brows. "You have a kind of beauty no man could ignore." And his height—gods, his height. Hashirama could tower over Madara. It made the Uchiha tremble with delight. "Your ancestors really picked the right genes for you."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>"It could... I would help you. I'm great at throwing good high end parties," Hashirama smiled, full of tiredness, hiding the fact that guests of his parties were usually lost beings and alcoholics from the Senju clan. And that they usually ended with him losing all money and his pride. "We will change their minds. I will help you. We can do it together. I'm afraid that if I won't help you, you will fall apart and you will leave. We just need to fight against the odds," he quietly announced. He couldn't stand the fact that Madara was hurting. He'd rather suffer himself, because sometimes it was easier to suffer than to watch someone ache so much. "Perhaps they are just jealous of you." </p><p>"Tobirama says I look homely. I know he's my brother, but it kind of stuck," Hashirama laughed. He knew that beauty was in the eye of the beholder only. And if Madara found him pretty, it was enough. "But I want them to ignore it. I want everyone to ignore it, but you," he whispered and sat back, lifting his kimono back on his shoulders. "I can't really believe other men ignored you," he smiled and grabbed a stand of Madara's black hair with his hand and kissed it. Madara really was a being from heaven, all his wishes coming true, his luck formed of four palms. He was so weak he only wanted to soak into Madara's skin. He laid on the bed, tired, wishing Madara's body would warm his. There was only a thin wall between them, probably made of Hashirama's linen clothes.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Leave? Madara couldn't imagine leaving Hashirama. Everything else... none of the other things truly mattered to him anymore. Maybe it was fair that his clan wanted him gone, or at least wanted a new head. Madara didn't have an heir to hand the role off to, so it was down to squabbling if he relinquished the title. But that dishonor, despite its social weight, would only be an annoyance to Madara. He was more worried about his own future now. For some reason, when he looked forward, he didn't see his future. He didn't have a goal. His only goal as of late was to fall hopelessly in love with Hashirama. And somehow, that was working. That was all he needed.</p><p>"Alright," he murmured, leaning down further and kissing Hashirama's lips, long and slow. Finally, he parted to breathe. "If you insist upon it, I can't say no to you. You've always been better at impressing people than I have."</p><p>Madara couldn't remember the last time he looked at anyone other than Hashirama. Sure, there were occasions. When he gave up on that lofty dream of Hashirama in the past, sometimes he would open his eyes to the world and see pretty women, pretty men. He liked them both in different ways. But being with a woman was a visible thing. Madara didn't particularly want to marry. And other men never were quite enough in his eyes. As it turned out, Madara had never really completely taken his eyes off Hashirama in the first place.</p><p>"Maybe I was the one who ignored them," Madara said, shifting around to lay next to the Senju, still tracing circles on Hashirama's cheeks. Laying down made him so tired. His eyes could barely stay open. Slowly, he draped his arm across Hashirama's chest and embraced him, letting his breast be a pillow. Hashirama's heart beat in his ears, his warmth radiating into Madara's clothes, his skin. This was what his dream was, from here until the rest of eternity. To stay this way forever, undisturbed. He wanted this all his life, and all the days to come.</p><p>"You're everything to me, Hashi."</p><p>══════════════</p><p>Hashirama smiled at Madara. He knew they would have to throw a formal dinner. It sounded like a fun thing they could do as friends, not lovers. No one would notice. He pulled Madara closer to his chest and squeezed his arm. He fell asleep along with the words Madara whispered. And they repeated themselves in Hashirama's imagination over and over again, in his dreams and in his nightmares that night.</p><p>══════════════</p><p>
  <b> <em>To Be Continued...</em> </b>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Scene 3a: The One Where They Run Away For A Night</h2></a>
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  <span>Hashirama's sight was still blurry when he opened his eyes from yesterday's drinking, or maybe from the kissing. He felt the weight of Madara on him. Somehow, Madara's chakra calmed him down. Hashirama slept like a baby in a crib when his friend was close. He felt dizzy looking at the room that was enlightened by the golden beams of sunlight. The light was too much for his aching head. He had too much to drink and too little to eat. </span>
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  <span>He knew that he lost to Madara but he wasn't sure how it was possible. He didn't think it through, but maybe he didn't have to. Maybe it was just a choice that didn't need planning. Hashirama looked at Madara. The sun was painting nonsensical pictures on his forehead, so Hashirama kissed the spot above his eyebrows so the sun wouldn't be able to shine there. Madara in his clothes, under Hashirama’s blankets, on his pillows. In his room, on his bed. Hashirama didn't want to wake him up because he looked too peaceful, so he tried to get away in secret. He pulled away and sat on the bed. He didn't even notice that he was trembling.</span>
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  <b>
    <em>Later That Day...</em>
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  <span>Hashirama came back home sooner than he anticipated. Tobirama was in a good mood, probably because he was able to leave the festival early. When Hashirama was asked how he celebrated, he just smiled and replied that he didn't celebrate much. That was good. He didn't speak about alcohol or Madara, this way Tobirama was happier in his bubble. And Tobirama let Hashirama live his life. </span>
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  <span>Upon entering, Hashirama was surprised that Madara was still sleeping like a child. He had a box with food in his hands that was brought to him by a young lady from the Shimura clan he considered too tall for his liking. And Hashirama prefered darker hair anyway. He wondered what they would think if they knew that Madara was still in his bed. </span>
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  <span>"Madara?" He asked to make sure Madara wasn't dead, poisoned by the alcohol he drank. That would really be a tragedy. The Uchiha clan would probably think Hashirama killed him and they would avenge the hated clan leader. Or they would thank him. Either way, it would be a disaster.</span>
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  <span>Madara grumbled. His dreams still blurred his vision, though he couldn't quite separate reality from fantasy. He smelled Hashirama, Hashirama on the sheets, Hashirama everywhere. Was he having another wet dream? His heart raced and he opened his eyes fast to the blinding sun, curling back up and burying his head in the pillow.</span>
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  <span>"Are you waking up?" Hashirama asked slowly with a smile on his face. Madara had too much to drink. "Do you remember anything of yesterday?" Hashirama put the food on two plates. "Do you want lunch?" he looked at Madara again. He looked so sleepy and tired, but Hashirama still found it beautiful. He had no idea someone could look like this after such a long sleep.</span>
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  <span>Now he heard a voice. A real voice. So he was awake then.</span>
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  <span>Getting up was another issue. Stretching, he rolled over onto his back to gaze over at the Senju, letting his eyes adjust to the sunlight. He remembered some things. Kissing. Bathing. Being naked. More kissing. Sleeping curled up in his arms. As if his dream wasn't enough to start off his day with a wood, now he really had one. "Yeah," he answered shortly, eyeing the food. "I remember. And that looks nice." He glanced quickly at the bathroom door. Just a few minutes was all he needed. "I'll be right back." Standing up slowly, awkwardly, his joints cracked. His head started to pulse and ache. Just great. He really needed to stop doing this to himself. The mornings were just miserable.</span>
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  <span>Once inside the bathroom, he hesitated with the door lock. This would really only take a minute. He locked it. God, this was obvious. Too obvious. Why did he have to be cursed with a massive, dangling piece of meat that wouldn't leave him alone? Madara muttered under his breath, undoing his pants and quickly starting to rub himself out. Curse that Hashirama. He was too beautiful for his own good.</span>
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  <span>Hashirama put both of the plates on the table. He didn't have anything else as he lost all his money earlier in the week, in the midst of his deep grief he had because of what happened with Madara. He always went back to gambling. It excited him. Hashirama didn't like wars, but he was from a bloodline of men who fought for living. He was teached to fight and he got used to that. The bid, the excitement, the risk of losing one's life... He was dependent on the rush of adrenaline, the high he got from it. And the only thing that came close to it in the times of peace was... Gambling. He risked only money, but it was still better than nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if Madara was to throw up in the bathroom. "Do you need my help?" He asked loudly so Madara would hear him. He could hold his hair if he was. Hashirama then opened a bottle of cheap sake he had left and laid the cups on the table. The best cure for a hangover was to drink alcohol. It was ironic, that they were curing the poisoning with the poison itself in the morning. But it was what Hashirama learned since the age he started to drink. Which was, for him, very early in his childhood.</span>
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  <span>Madara nearly jumped right out of his skin. He didn't know why.</span>
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  <span>"I'm alright," he called back. "Just taking a shit." Though help with this would have been... nice. Madara blushed and started rubbing again. Maybe if he was drunk he would have had the balls to ask. But sober? Not a chance. Of the things Madara did remember last night, Hashirama was honest: and he didn't seem as inclined to lovemaking as Madara. Maybe it was for the best, though Madara still felt an emptiness in the pit of his stomach at the thought.</span>
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  <span>He swallowed a groan as he came, leaning against the wall over the toilet. His knees always felt weak after that, especially when he was standing. The pleasure only lasted so long. No, it was always better with someone else. That was what he believed wholeheartedly. Kissing, touching, loving... those things felt electric when someone else was doing them to him. For a moment, he couldn't get the image of Hashirama's mouth around him out of his head. He let himself think about it for a moment longer, pushing the rest of the cum out. Then, finally, with a bit of toilet paper, he cleaned himself up and flushed away the evidence. Looking in the mirror, he found a pale, tired-looking man staring back. His hair was a mess. His eyes had dark circles underneath, despite how much he slept now. God, that was just so unsatisfying. He didn't want to even think about how he just jerked off in his friend's bathroom. It made him feel gross.</span>
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  <span>Unlocking the door, he stepped back out into the room. The smell of food met his nose again, and he took his spot across from Hashirama.</span>
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  <span>"Damn Madara, why are you telling me that?!" Hashirama shrieked from the kitchen. He did not need to know that. "Can't you just lie and tell me that you're brushing your teeth?! Or cleaning my bathroom?!" he yelled. He liked the way Madara was open with him, but he could lie when it came to these things. He took a sip from the cup and smiled at Madara. He looked as pretty as a dream. His hair was falling down on his face and on the side of his neck. Hashirama nodded. "I thought you're not feeling well so I wanted to help you with the hangover," he innocently added and smiled lovingly at Madara, he could only hope he remembered everything. He could see the blood in his cheeks and it was beautiful. Even his lips somehow looked scarlett.</span>
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  <span>"Thanks for this," he said, his eyes glazing over every bit of Hashirama's form. God damn it. He shoved a huge bit of food in his mouth and chewed for a long while. Mouth-half full still, he glanced down at the filled cup before him. "Is this sake?" He almost laughed. Maybe his friend was worse than him.</span>
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  <span>"You're welcome, my dear," Hashirama smiled. "Will you join the training?" he asked and started to eat. Through everything that was happening in Konoha, they could do anything together. And Hashirama felt the union between them getting stronger and stronger. He was proud of what they were able to grow together, in this barren, unfruitful world. They had Konoha together, their baby, and then there was the special, raw bond. Hashirama knew he would never love anyone as much as he did love Madara. No one could come close. He didn't want anything else than to love Madara, to be able to take care of him. To wash him every night and wake up together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hashirama didn't mind fighting. The touches were too familiar and they didn't lie. Blow was a blow, no matter what kind. But some touches were betrayals and no one ever knew what they were. "We can go far away... to the river. We can fish. Sleep under the stars."</span>
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  <span>God, Madara loved to fluster Hashirama, at the very least. It always made him snicker.</span>
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  <span>He swallowed the bite. "I suppose it would help," he said of the sake, taking the cup and downing it. Maybe this wasn't the best way to go about this. Part of him almost wanted to ask for tea. But maybe that would have been rude. Still, Hashirama did make some great tea. Maybe later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart fluttered at Hashirama's proposition. Not just training, but going away together for a day? All the thoughts bubbled up in Madara's brain. He wanted to slap himself awake. He just took care of this problem not even two minutes prior. He didn't need another problem to start up again so soon. Still, what could he possibly say other than yes?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I would love that, Hashi," he said, quickly trying to distract himself with more food and drink. His body was not doing things on his terms lately, and that was more frustrating than ever. But if he just ignored it...</span>
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  <span>Hashirama smiled at Madara. They could get away, far from the village and evil tongues. Hashirama felt content. He wanted to show Madara so many places in the forest, places Madara would probably immediately forget because they would all sound and look the same to him. But for Hashirama this was important. Nature provided escapism for him. He could dream about love, poetry, and expensive tastes he had never tried. He was glad Madara was coming. He just had no idea what he signed up for. After emptying the plate, Hashirama started to grab stuff they would need. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How much sake do we need?" Hashirama smiled. He couldn't wait for this quiet trip. Clothes, he needed plenty of clothes. He showed almost childlike enthusiasm. Because his friend was coming with him, to places they could be all alone, places where he only went alone, places he only knew alone. It was like he wanted to show Madara the places he liked, like they were his family. He had no idea why Madara looked so flushed, but he supposed that it was the hangover. In the end, he didn't even kiss the man, although he wanted to. But he was too distracted with packing.</span>
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  <span>Madara smiled at the question. So Hashirama wanted to go on a trip, all by themselves, and get drunk. How could Madara ever say no to this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Plenty of it," he replied about the sake, cleaning his plate as well. The enthusiasm on Hashirama's face was so adorable to watch. Madara stood, wishing he could grab Hashirama's hand, wishing he could kiss him. He actually missed waking up next to Hashirama. The man must have gotten up early that morning. Normally, Madara was a light sleeper, but after last night, it was fair he hadn't even noticed. Still, he wanted to look into his lover's eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Were they lovers? Was that even a fair assessment? Madara had no idea. Hashirama loved him, that was for certain. But... Madara wanted just a little more. Something to hold onto, something to feel. He swallowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I suppose I should go drop by my place to grab some clothes to take," he said. "How long are you able to leave for?" Madara could go out into the woods with Hashirama for days. He couldn't wait to just listen to Hashirama talk about trees and plants. It had always been the man's obsession. His voice was music to Madara's ears. Still, though, deep in the back of his mind, as Madara stared at Hashirama's hands, the hands Madara couldn't quite get himself to grasp, he wanted to do so much more in the woods. He wanted to feel everything he could possibly ever feel.</span>
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  <span>Hashirama was always onto the next thing. It was hard for other people to follow. He moved slowly when it came to relationships, but his attention span had the quality of a five-year-old, so he had to constantly come up with plans. Most people liked it because they never had to think twice about what to do. Hashirama just had an idea and they went with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine," Hashirama said and put another bottle of sake to his backpack. "I hope it rains," he said, suddenly lost in a daydream. It would be perfect. The night rain and them, in a small cabin of mokuton. And him, touching Madara's abdomen and hips and... For what it was worth, Hashirama enjoyed Madara's closeness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you sleep well?" Hashirama asked. "You know, your sleep isn't that good if you drink alcohol before going to bed," he reminded his friend. Or his lover. Hashirama looked at him again, like the world disappeared and Madara was the only thing that was left. Hashirama would actually be ok with that. No, nothing else mattered other than Madara the last couple of days. Hashirama already felt like he got away, like he was living in his bubble that no one but Madara could enter. And today, Hashirama was relaxed. "Or you can take mine, I might have some clean ones left... I can be gone until tomorrow morning. We just need to come back early."</span>
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  <span>"Alright," Madara shrugged. "I'll take a shirt of yours then. Although you do have the tall edge on me." He snickered at his own joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His sleep was... interesting. "It was fine," was all he said. But he dreamed quite a bit, most of which he couldn't entirely remember. But it almost seemed just a repeat of last night, only warmer. In his dreams, they did things to each other. Madara wasn't especially fond of talking about his dreams, as they usually felt nonsensical and irrelevant. But now, he felt more silly than ever; his dreams felt all too relevant. His face started to burn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's not waste any time then." He too smiled at the thought of rain. Hashirama had always been so keen about nature. Madara enjoyed nature the same way everyone else probably did. But Hashirama's enthusiasm was endearing. Madara loved to listen to him and learn from him. Not for the first time that morning, once again Madara had the urge to cross the room, take Hashirama by the hands, and kiss him. They'd get plenty of time for that later, especially now that they planned a trip. Still... Madara felt the need to do it. Maybe he wanted to show appreciation. Maybe he wanted to feel close again. It was an odd morning for him, waking up in a bed that wasn't his own, in a home that wasn't his, but with a person who was... It seemed almost part of the ritual of waking.</span>
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  <span>Slowly, as Hashirama was grabbing things to take along, Madara shuffled across the room, embarrassed but needy. That's what it was. He was as needy as a child. But for once, Madara didn't care so much (save for the embarrassment of feeling like a child in the process). He needed a hug or something, anything. "Hashi.."</span>
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  <span>"You're going to look so small in my clothes," Hashirama laughed too. Then he carefully closed his eyes. "Maybe you could bring your clothes here later, so you will not have to go for them every day," he whispered. His apartment was too small, but he accepted Madara as something of his, so he didn't mind having him here. Hashirama was still walking from one side of the room to another, throwing stuff into his bag, distracted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do we need to buy something? Cigarettes or tobacco for a pipe could be nice by the river in an evening air," Hashirama paced in his mind. The only problem was that he lost most of his money during the apocalyptic week. He was almost completely bankrupt. He was atrocious with money and numbers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn't that he didn't think about kissing Madara, about caressing his cheek, stroking his hair, putting a hand on his hips, but he wasn't sure whether it was the right thing to do. He wasn't as drunk as  last night and he was afraid that one touch could ruin everything. Their relationship could break any minute. Hashirama put his arms around Madara's shoulders when he came near and kissed his forehead, cautiously, like Madara was a brittle, handsome rag doll he learned to love. Hashirama noticed the red color on his cheeks although he had no idea why. He remembered how he carried him to the bathtub the day before and how heavenly Madara looked. Then Hashirama turned to the door. The thought of sparring in the woods seemed inviting. When he touched the doorknob, he suddenly turned around, pulled the hem of Madara's shirt towards himself and kissed him deeply on the lips.</span>
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</p><p>
  <span>Madara sank deep into the kiss. The first was so sweet anyway. That alone would have been enough until later. But this stirred a fire in Madara's heart. His body sank into Hashirama's, his arms wrapping around his core, pressing into his back. No kiss could be enough to end it all. Madara always needed more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't calm his breathing, but didn't mind a bit. His body was responding, tingles flew up his arms, through his chest. Hashirama tasted of the sake from lunch. Madara couldn't handle it. He moaned deeply, feeling the throb down below coming on yet again. Madara had always had endurance. Maybe he had always been horny. Sure, he may have practiced to get himself to that point. The allure of being able to last for a long time, and then recover quickly—that was too attractive to him. It was just another way to improve his physical form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, his mind wandered there, wondering just how it would feel if Hashirama decided to take him. He thought of all the sensations that made him tingle. A tongue across his tip. A fondle of balls. A finger up the ass. Gods. Then a dildo. When Madara made that purchase on a faraway mission, he remembered his first thought as wondering if this dildo was as large as Hashirama, and then wondering how large the man even was. It was the first time he had ever even thought about sticking anything up his ass, the first time he even walked into a sex shop. And of course, it was one of the first times he truly realized what was going on inside his own head, how he saw his friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madara didn't let go. He didn't open his eyes at all. Hashirama drove him insane in the best of ways. He wanted everything to be stopped in his tracks like this. He wanted to be covered in warmth, to laze about, naked and in love, affectionate and sweet, tender and tipsy, a glossy lens over the world. He wanted to lay naked in Hashirama's arms, staring at the clouds and then the stars. He wanted to do that in any way, shape, or form, clothes or not, actually. But the clothes didn't matter. However they did it, he wanted to do it because it felt natural. His other half was here. Madara pulled himself deep into Hashirama. May we never be separate, his mind whispered as he clung to Hashirama.</span>
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</p><p>
  <span>Hashirama kissed Madara some more. He was trembling again, this time from excitement. He wanted to handle everything right. He felt Madara's hard on, which suddenly made him feel like lightning was coming down his spine, through his hips, to his toes. His legs felt weak and for a moment Hashirama was afraid that they would fail them. He put his palm on Madara's cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started to think about helping Madara here and now, but then he changed his mind. They needed to leave. "Will you wait to release the tension for me?" Hashirama asked, kissing Madara's forehead. He wanted to do the job. He enjoyed Madara writhing and convulsing when he was having him in his mouth. He longed for that sigh. And if he could keep Madara on his toes like this for the whole trip, then it would be even greater. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem was that he wasn't drunk for it enough just yet. He wanted Madara, he wanted to wrap him once again in mokuton, to make it impossible for him to move, and own him. Hashirama smiled and opened the door. He bought a few packs of cigarettes and tobacco, promising the vendor that he will pay as soon as he will return. Then grabbed Madara's hand, leaving the Konoha behind them, leaving all the people who thought that Madara was cursed and Hashirama was under a spell, leaving behind all Hashirama's worries, leaving with his only real light, Madara, candle, that was lightning in the dark tunnel he was going through. But with Madara he was stronger and his problems weren't half as big. Walking on dusty roads towards the forest.</span>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <span>Madara's face was so red he thought he could die. Hashirama really said they'd release all this tension. He really really said it. And he was so calm about it, too. That look in his eye was so collected, so sure, despite the trembling joy. Madara nearly lost all his balance, doe-eyed and helpless. "Of course," he breathed, his whisper trembling. Of course he'd wait. He wanted to know what was in Hashirama's mind, what he was going to do. But the surprise of it all... Madara didn't normally like surprises, but this was the best kind, the kind that swept him off his feet. He adored that kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madara loved the feeling of Hashirama's hands. He held them, rubbing his thumb into the muscles of the man's hand. Whenever Hashirama had to use it, Madara watched him touch and take, holding the packs of cigarettes, making friendly gestures. And always, when those hands returned, they returned to Madara warmer than they left. Madara wanted to bask in that warmth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Konoha was well behind them, his fingers interlaced with Hashirama's. Normally, Madara wore gloves wherever he went. It was a way of protecting his hands, keeping them clean, just a habit of his now. But with Hashirama, whom he wanted to feel beneath his fingers, he wore no gloves. He loved the feel of Hashirama's skin, the gentleness, the tactile comfort. He only wished he could trace his fingers around every crevice, Hashirama's hand guiding him everywhere. Even just over his clothes would be beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm assuming you have a spot picked out already," Madara inquired. He was waiting for Hashirama to start talking about all the nature they would see. Hearing him made Madara want to tuck his head into Hashirama's neck, close his eyes, and listen all night long.</span>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <span>Hashirama liked to play with Madara and to tease him. The cute scarlett on Madara's face only underlined the fact. Madara's insides could now slowly burn with want, because Hashirama promised he would take care of it. The fact that Madara hadn't seen him naked was even more beguiling. Hashirama wanted Madara, once he saw him - if Madara could stick around for so long - to spontaneously combust. To sink completely and die. To melt and soak into the floor like a black ink. To be electrified. To come without further touching. Hashirama desperately wanted to play this game. It was so unfit to think these dirty thoughts. He had never been like this. Maybe he really was shy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hashirama walked just a little faster than Madara, just so that he could lead the way. He wasn't very bothered by holding Madara's hand in Konoha. He did it often anyways when he got drunk. But he wasn't that drunk now. "I have few places picked out... I know these desolate woods like the back of my hand. I can't choose just one place." Hashirama smiled and looked at Madara while hearing the twigs break under his feet. "What is your favorite flower?" Hashirama asked. "If you have one... Not everyone has, but I think it says a lot about a person," Hashirama smiled and lifted his hand, together with Madara's, just to kiss his knuckles. He found something hot even in these seemingly innocent, beautiful gestures. He wanted to kiss him more, he wanted to brush his lips against every inch of Madara's body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just a few more steps and they could do whatever they wanted. Not a single person from Konoha could possibly know about it. They were free, like branches growing free away from the bole. They could never reach them and hurt them. The worst part was that these people, their whispers, their rumors, their talking, could kill the still delicate sprout of their love. It was too young to withstand such a treatment. Hashirama wanted to grow it; to water it, let the sun come through, to tend it. But would it even be enough? "And what's your favorite tree?" Hashirama added, looking at Madara.</span>
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</p><p>
  <span>Madara chuckled. "I've always been fond of tiger lilies. Perhaps it's just the name. But they're striking in all aspects." Maybe he thought of his mother when he saw them, as if to make up a memory of being told what that flower was by her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hashirama's lips on his knuckles brought him back to reality. His favorite tree? He wasn't sure. He remembered a quite monstrous tree that grew near his birthplace. Sugi trees, they were called. Massive cedars. They were so tall, Madara could never see the top as a child. He wondered if they reached into the heavens, if they had done so since the beginning of time. "Sugi trees are pretty neat."</span>
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</p><p>
  <span>"They look dangerous," Hashirama said of the lilies. "Although they aren't poisonous, at least not to humans. It's only their protection against predators. It's the interesting thing about nature, the flowers really evolved to look like something that actually is dangerous - like a tiger, in this instance. This way other entities will not touch them for the fear they really are the tigers. And us, people, do it too, although we don't live with nature anymore. The tiger lillies are like you, don't you think? Is that why you chose them?" He smiled and caressed Madara's cheek with the back of his other hand, stopping for a minute. He had to ask. This way he could bring Madara his favorite flowers every day. He could grow them in his apartment from the wooden floor just for his best friend. He could make a bed out of them just for Madara and make love to him on it like Madara deserved. The thoughts surfaced once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I like honeysuckles, sequoias and oaks. But my favorite flower is peony," he tried to stop the string of dirty thoughts. He didn't understand what was happening to him. Although he always harboured some feelings towards Madara, after that cursed, damned night Hashirama left him on the floor, he was completely out of his usual balance. So he stopped and dropped Madara's hand for a bit. He joined his own hands together and then he let the tiger lillies grow under his best friend's feet. He always wanted to do that, but there was no one to do that for. He knew this was cheesy. But he was a cheesy guy.</span>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <span>Madara watched in awe as the bright orange lilies sprouted, grew, and bloomed, spotted petals curling up. He so badly wanted to pick one, but felt it a rude desecration of life too. And all at once, his mind couldn't stop thinking about his mother, the one he barely knew, and yet felt homesick for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrapped his arms around Hashirama and buried his face in his chest. For a long while, he didn't say anything. He didn't want to, or he was afraid he would cry. What was it with him lately? Even now, as he barely had anything to drink at all, he was as emotional as ever. Was it because he was finally fulfilled in other areas? Was it because he felt loved? Hashirama was so kind to him. Sometimes Madara took that for granted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He buried his face in Hashirama's neck. "Do you think I'm like her at all?" he asked softly. "Like my mother?" There were times he felt feminine. Maybe sometimes he felt more connected to women than attracted to them, though he never had pursued any. Being womanlike in any way had always been discouraged by his father. And now, years upon years later, Madara was finally learning to cry, among other things. He felt a strange connection that didn't make sense to him. He almost wished he was very much like his own mother. It made him feel beautiful, maybe even worthy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you," he murmured. He wanted to see Hashirama's favorites. "Please show me yours, too, love." He glanced back down at the tiger lillies. He had never worn flowers in his hair. Something told him to try it. He leaned down and picked a pair, putting the first in Hashirama's hair, before leaving a slow, gentle kiss on his lips. He felt so warm. He wanted time to stop right here. His whole body hummed again. It took him out of reality for a moment, as if the rest of the world disappeared. He couldn't ignore this feeling. It was so natural to be drawn to Hashirama this way. Being out in the woods, surrounded by nature itself, only made it feel even more normal, even more right. Madara tucked his sprig of tiger lily behind his own ear, almost laughing in embarrassment. He didn't quite feel pretty enough for this. What if he looked silly? He stared into Hashirama's eyes, so full of life and wonder.</span>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <span>Hashirama put his arms around Madara. They were perhaps too big for him. He was glad Madara didn't start to laugh at his attempt to be romantic. His father hated when he used his skills for such stupid things. But Hashirama liked to do that. Once he let the white chrysanthemums grow all over the house of a Senju man whose son died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hashirama stopped for a minute, pulling Madara closer. He didn't understand why he talked about his mother, but from what was said he figured that his best friend felt a strong connection between the flowers and the woman who gave birth to him. He wanted to kiss away his fears, tell him that he was like his mother, which was probably what Madara wanted to hear, but Hashirama didn't know her. "What was her name? Of course you are. You're one half her. I'm sure she was charming and lovely, just like you are. Madara, she must have been divinely gorgeous, because you don't look like your father at all, so she must have looked like you. Do you have her photograph? Was she as kind as you?" Hashirama smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let Madara put flowers in his hair. Hashirama sometimes did that, because he found that beautiful. "Look at us, looking pretty, ready to attend some meeting with the Feudal Lord." Hashirama pulled his head back and laughed audibly. "You know, you'd look even more handsome in a flower crown of tiger lilies." He didn't want Madara to cry. But he himself wanted to cry because of the happiness he felt at that moment. Hashirama tangled his hands together again and let the peony bush grow in front of them. The light pink blooms appeared on top of them, opening themselves just enough. Hashirama laughed nervously. Far away from the walls of Konoha Madara looked... happy and healthy. It almost hurt Hashirama how miserable Madara was in Konoha, their baby, in comparison to this. He made a mental note to take care of Madara so that he would feel the love, the happiness, the pure joy in their village too.</span>
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</p><p>
  <span>"Her name was Mura." Madara watched the peonies burst into bloom right before his eyes. Petals after pink petals opened up on the flowers. Madara felt so soft in Hashirama's arms. So safe. "Maybe I have a photo somewhere, packed away in all my father's old things. I'm not sure." He turned and nestled his face in Hashirama's neck again, feeling less teary and more just needy. "She was more kind than me, probably. I like to think so. She was lovely. She had a wonderful smile, and a sweet touch. She was the one who insisted my siblings and I grow my hair long. Father never was a fan, but he had to concede that it was traditional."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madara chucked at Hashirama's jest, but even more so at his beautiful laughter. He nuzzled his nose against Hashirama's and left a little kiss on the man's lips. Hashi was so creative, so inspiring, so warm. Everything he said instilled confidence. Madara smiled. "Do your worst," he joked on the flower crown. He wanted to be the subject of Hashirama's desire, and that request made him feel like he truly was.</span>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <span>"You should find it, Madara. It's important to have pictures of people we love. You can put it in a frame and hang it on a wall in the apartment," Hashirama smiled and touched Madara's chin. "She must have been a spectacular woman, no wonder you are her child. And she must have loved you very much, you certainly look like someone whose mother cared deeply about them. What else do you know about her?" He felt strange closeness to Madara when he was talking about his mother. Maybe it was the vulnerability, but he didn't want it to stop. It was intimate and safe. "It's good that he listened to her. I think you look pretty with your hair like this. Why didn't he like it?" Hashirama smiled and kissed the top of Madara's head. Then he inserted his long fingers into Madara's hair, entwining his tips with the strings of Madara's hair.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't say it twice," Hashirama laughed again, opened his other palm and slowly grew a crown of tiger lilies. He looked surprised, opening his mouth with the bewilderment. He was able to make the flowers bloom, create wooden golems, grow trees, but he was never good in details. It was like he never got the grip for it. But somehow he was able to do it, and he could only ask himself how and why now. He had tried to learn the skill for a long time when he was younger, but with no success. And now, he almost stuttered at the sight. Yes, the flower crown was quite... crooked, but it was still better than anything he had done before. And he couldn't say a word.</span>
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</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe so," Madara murmured. He had just boxes of old things his father collected before he died. Madara would have to go through all of them. He normally didn't like to. But maybe this was a noble cause. Madara wasn't looking for his father anyway. He was looking for his mother. He wondered disdainfully if his father even kept any photos of her. He shook his head. Some other time. He'd get around to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Hashirama's compliment, Madara couldn't help but grin. "My father didn't like it because we were at war. He thought long hair was a liability in battle. But he didn't have much say in the end. That was her wish, and he honored that, at least."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madara watched the crown of orange lilies curl into being. Hashirama's shock was apparent, but at what?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Surely that's not the first time you've made a flower crown. You're Hashirama Senju." He pulled the man closer in an embrace. He never wanted to let go.</span>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <span>"I can help you look if you want," Hashirama smiled. "My father didn't like mine also. Actually, he hated it, he cut it off plenty of times, even the night before he died... But perhaps because he didn't like it I wanted it long," Hashirama pulled Madara closer. "But it grows too fast because of my regeneration so the short length could never last long. Besides, it's tiring to cut your hair every three days," he laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And no, I haven't…” he said of the crown. “I have never been able to do details. Like, details in wood, or do some beautiful things like this. I tried. I tried very hard, but I always failed. I don't know why now…” But he had an idea. He just didn't want to say it aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He placed the crooked crown on Madara's head. "Now your father would be proud!" he laughed like a little kid again.</span>
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</p><p>
  <span>All Madara could do was giggle at Hashirama's story. He watched the man speak, the way his eyes lit up. It hadn't been this way between them since they were kids. It was all so effortless out here. They truly were meant to be together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madara closed his eyes as Hashirama placed the crown on his head. Somehow, he could almost imagine it, and despite feeling slightly silly, he also felt immeasurably beautiful. Not by just anyone's standards, but by Hashirama's, and possibly even his own. No one else's standards even mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, he would be," Madara murmured, smiling at Hashirama's laughter. He was not thinking of his father anymore. Madara planted warm kisses on Hashi's soft cheeks. After he had pressed one last kiss on his lips, Madara let his voice rumble comfortably low and velvety soft. "I love you."</span>
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</p><p>
  <span>It was also different for Hashirama. He could escape the constant expectations that were placed on him in Konoha. The weight of the village wasn't bringing him down like a stone. He was free and so was Madara. He didn't have to pretend that he fancies a lady from the Shimura clan. For him, no female could compare to Madara in any way. Even in the crown, he looked so innocent and pure. It was a delight for Hashirama's eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He touched Madara's chin and pulled him closer. Then he slowly started to kiss him, prolonging the kiss and pulling his whole body to his. His body didn't listen to him. Madara said the words while he was... quite sober. Hashirama pulled away and smiled. Although he didn't believe Madara, he felt warm. He thought that it was just Madara's body urges. Hashirama heard words like this a few times and it was never honest, at least he didn't feel like he was. "You're my best friend!" he announced to Madara, to the trees, to the forest and to the birds sitting on branches over their heads. To beings that could not even repeat it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We should go.. I wanna be at the river before the sun sets so we can spat for a bit," he smiled.</span>
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</p><p>
  <span>Madara hesitated, but shook his head. That just had to be Hashirama's way of saying the same thing. Although his gut instinct was to hide, Madara instead grasped Hashirama's hand tighter. Those moments with Hashi's lips on his were the things that kept Madara's heart beating, his blood pumping, his lungs breathing. Even just a gaze of Hashirama's kept him alive, made him feel alive. And the sound of sparring with him made him feel even more close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're going to the river, then" Madara murmured. That was an old, special place, if Hashirama meant the one they met at as kids. It had been a long time since Madara had seen it's shores.</span>
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</p><p>
  <span>Hashirama felt like a guilt spilled over in his stomach. He was atrocious and cruel for making Madara feel this way, for not being able to say the words back. For protecting his back, for having one eye open during sleep, for being so.. uptight. Hashirama was spontaneous as a child, but after gaining his duties, he lost most of that. Sometimes he felt like a mere parody of himself, not a real person, just a shell of his childlike self. Madara might have been the only person that overwhelmed all his senses and more. The only person who owned his emotions. The only person who affected his feelings, body urges and chakra vibrations. He knew that when he first saw him on that fateful day. He knew he met something real, not just the idea of a person. Hashirama grabbed Madara's pale hand and led him to the river. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Madara... I worry about you a ton. You cry often. I don't mind you being this open, but I'm concerned that something is going on with you. My dear, are you depressed? Or anxious?" he asked his lover softly. Although everything was going good for them right now, like the stars finally lined up, Hashirama felt some discrepancies. "Is it Izuna?" Hashirama whispered, squeezing Madara's hand like he was saying 'I love you.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you eating properly? If something's up, if there's anything bothering you, you can tell me, alright? You need to promise you will tell me," Hashirama pleaded. He needed that to feel close and intimate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked through the trails probably only Hashirama knew. He spent so much time in these woods. After Madara left him as a child, Hashirama came here often. To remember the lost friendship, to cry over could-have-beens, to maybe see Madara again. He was so naive for hoping he might meet Madara here. Back then he believed that if two people were meant for each other, they would find their way back together. So he would wait for the day to come. And now, he had everything he wanted. And just like that, before them appeared the shores of the river.</span>
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</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>To Be Continued...</em>
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